To the Mountain
by yellowrose
Summary: Sam destroys the Ring and the Mouth of Sauron wants revenge COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note: Well, I swore I wasn't going to be writing anymore Sam stories for awhile, but what can I say? I will admit, this isn't a particularly original or inspired story, it was just something I felt like writing. If a story about Sam destroying the Ring is too much of a "been there, done that" tale for some of you, then I wouldn't bother with this one! However, if you do choose to read this, I hope you enjoy it!  
  
Chapter 1 Abandoned  
  
She was gone. Sam watched, full of burning anger, as the foul creature scurried back into her black hole. He hacked at one retreating claw, Sting dripping a greenish poison ichor from it's deadly blade. Panting, Sam wiped the sweat dripping from his brow and turned towards Frodo. The other Hobbit was lying motionless on the path, completely encased in thick, white cords. With a cry of horror, Sam fell to his knees and crawled to his master, desperate to release Frodo from Shelob's snare. Using Sting, Sam cut through the thick, sticky webbing binding Frodo. "Master!" he cried frantically freeing Frodo's pale face. "Master Frodo! Please! Speak to me!" He lay his hand on Frodo's chest, hoping to feel the comforting beat of his master's heart. There was nothing. Sam pulled Frodo's lifeless body to his breast, hugging him hard, hoping to somehow bring him back. Still, Frodo showed no sign of life.  
  
Sam gently lay Frodo back onto the cold stone of the mountain, tears flowing freely down Sam's filth covered cheeks. "Please Mr. Frodo," he whispered in despair as he caressed Frodo's cold face, "Please don't leave me here alone! What will I do without you!?" There was no response. Frodo lay cold and silent, offering no comfort to his grief-stricken companion. Sam buried his face in his hands, his body wracked with anguished sobs of pain and sorrow.  
  
Sam had no idea how much time had passed as he knelt there grieving for his dead master. Time had lost all meaning to him in that dark place. Finally, when his tears were spent, he lifted his heavy head and again touched Frodo's cold cheek. "What am I to do now, Mr. Frodo?" he moaned wearily. "I can't leave you here all alone!" What was he to do? It was against his nature to leave his beloved master all alone in this alien land, but there had been a purpose to their coming here. They had a quest to fulfill and all along, Sam had felt he had some business to complete, a reason for staying with Frodo through this entire nightmare. Could this be why he had come?  
  
Sam could see the glint of silver around Frodo's neck and it was almost as if he could hear the Ring calling to him, urging him to take it from his master. Sam recoiled at the notion. "I couldn't take Mr. Frodo's Ring!" he thought, horrified at the very idea. "It's not my place!" He stopped at that thought. No, it wasn't his place. After all, he was only Samwise Gamgee, son of Hamfast Gamgee and nothing more than a simple gardener from the Shire. He wasn't meant for brave and noble deeds. That was more for the likes of Aragorn and Legolas. He was naught but a small Hobbit, how could he possibly take on this burden alone?  
  
But, slowly the realization crept over him: if he didn't take it, who would? Orcs? There were many here in this evil place. If they got it, they would take it straight to Sauron and that would be the end of everything: the Shire, Rivendell, Lorien, all that was beautiful in the world. It would all look like Mordor by the time Sauron was done with Middle Earth. Nothing decent or good would be left. Could Sam live with that on his conscious? Or perhaps Gollum would come sneaking back and finally get his slimy hands on his "Precious" once more. That thought angered Sam even more than the orcs. As much as Sam hated the idea, there was no one left but him. Simple, humble Samwise Gamgee was the last hope for Middle Earth. He sat there for several minutes, frozen by indecision and despair. Finally, with a small sob, he reached down towards the silver chair around Frodo's neck.  
  
"I.I'm so sorry, Mr. Frodo," Sam cried quietly, "If there was any other choice, I would take it straight away, but if I don't try to finish this errand by myself, all is lost. It's probably lost anyway." he sighed ruefully, shaking his head, "I'm sure to get it wrong, but I must try." Reluctantly, he put the chain over his own head, gasping slightly at the unexpected weight of the small gold ring. He gently kissed Frodo's icy brow, then rose slowly to his feet.  
  
Sam looked at Sting lying by his feet. He lifted it up, staring at it thoughtfully. Then, he lay his own sword by Frodo's side and placed Sting in its sheath at his hip. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo," he said apologetically, "I hope you don't mind, but I think I'll be needing this more that you will for now. There are a lot of those horrible orcs between here and Mt. Doom." Sam took a deep breath and wiped the tears from his face. "Good-by, Mr. Frodo," he murmured quietly, gazing down at his fallen master. "When this is all over, I will come back for you. I won't leave you here all alone forever. I promise"  
  
It was time to go. There was nothing for it, but to hitch up his pack and begin his lonely, hopeless journey into the poisoned lands of Mordor. He turned and slowly shuffled out of the tunnel opening and onto the path leading towards the orc tower ahead. He cautiously looked about and seeing no one, nor hearing any noises Sam stepped out onto the rutted path and began the climb towards the dark tower ahead. He knew he must get past it before he was truly in Mordor proper.  
  
The path was narrow with high cliffs on either side. The darkness seemed even more ominous here and although he still held Galadriel's gift, he dared not use it to light his way. He knew there were orcs around and they would spot such a bright light instantly. Upon reaching the summit of the Cleft, Sam got his first good look of the wastelands of Gorgoroth. It was a broken, desolate place and Sam felt even more disheartened than ever. How could he ever accomplish this himself? He almost turned back, but he summoned what little courage he possessed and stepped forward into Mordor. There was no turning back now. For better or for worse, the burden was his now and it was up to him to finish the quest.  
  
Sam had begun his descent into the Nameless land when he heard harsh voices ahead of him and the stomping of many feet. Orcs! Without thinking, Sam placed the Ring on his finger and promptly disappeared. He was surprised by the change in the world around him. The world seemed bathed in mist and objects became less distinct, although his hearing was more acute than ever. He could also feel the fiery Eye searching for him and terror rose in him. He scurried further down the path and away from the Orc soldiers. As soon as he felt he was far enough away, he ducked behind some rocks and pulled the Ring off. He was panting with fear and anxiety. "Oh, Mr. Frodo," he moaned to himself, "I hope they don't find you, but I must continue on! " Then, before he could change his mind, he turned and continued down the rocky, broken path, away from the Orcs and his beloved Frodo.  
  
The Orcs were on a mission. They had received orders to be on the lookout for spies on the stairs. Anything or anyone they found was to be taken directly to Barad-dur, intact and unspoiled. Shagrat and his men were searching the area carefully when one of the Orcs cried out. Shagrat hurried over towards the mouth of Shelob's lair and looked down at Frodo's inert form lying in the shadows.  
  
"Well now," Shagrat growled, "What have we here? Seems as if old Shelob has done our work for us!" He crouched down and examined Frodo more closely, then frowned. He noticed that the cords imprisoning the small creature before him had obviously been cut. Looking around he saw a trail of greenish-black slime leading back into Shelob's tunnel. Something was very odd here.  
  
"Looks like this little rat must have skewered her Ladyship!" exclaimed one of the other Orcs, also examining the mess. "Never heard of that happening before!"  
  
"Nooo," replied Shagrat with growing apprehension. "I never heard of that neither, but I don't think it was this rat that done it. Only some powerful warrior, like an elf maybe, could do such a thing. Plus, who cut this feller's cords? He didn't do it himself, that's for certain!" He stood up. "Come on, you lot. Grab the spy and bring him along. I don't want to wait around here for the other one to show up. Plus, I heard Gorbag's men moving around in that tower of theirs and I want to be out o' here before they try to take our prize!"  
  
"What difference does it make?" shrugged the other. "The rat's dead. Won't get no information out o' him!"  
  
Shagrat stared at him. "Don't you know nothing about her Ladyship?" he sneered. "She don't kill her victims! Just stuns 'em so's she can eat them later. She don't like 'em dead. This rat'll wake up in a few hours and then he'll wish he had been eaten by old Shelob!" The Orcs laughed and bearing their small burden, headed away from Minas Morgul towards the tower of Barad-dur. 


	2. The Beginning of the End

Chapter 2 The Beginning of the End  
  
It had been a long, grueling journey for Samwise Gamgee. He had struggled through mile after mile over the rocks and crevices of Mordor's blasted landscape. He tried not to think about Frodo, lying abandoned in the mountains near Minas Morgul. The burden of the Ring had become increasingly difficult for him to bear. Always he could hear it in his mind, whispering it's promises, soft as a lover's caress. More than once he had almost succumbed to temptation and found the Ring clasped in his damp hand, ready to be placed on his trembling finger. But Sam's heart was as good and as pure as any Hobbit's and he was not easily swayed into evil, even by the power of the One Ring. One advantage he had over Frodo at this point was his physical strength. Unlike Frodo, he had not been battling the growing power of the Ring for months. Even its growing weight was easier for him to carry than it would have been for his poor master. However, despite that one small advantage, the journey had extracted a terrible toll from the exhausted, traumatized Hobbit.  
  
Sam had finally reached the foot of Orodruin, the mountain of fire. He lay in the ashes, trying to catch his breath in the hot, stifling air. Even his own Gaffer might not have recognized Sam now. He was gaunt and haggard. He couldn't remember the last water he had consumed. Days ago it seemed to him. His tongue was so swollen, he wasn't sure he could drink anything even if he had miraculously come across a bubbling brook of the purest water. The Ring had become an almost unbearable weight around his raw and bleeding neck. He winced as he moved his left arm. He had met up with a stray Orc as he made his way across the Gorgoroth. Sam was able to kill the small, snuffling creature, but not before it had managed to slash Sam's arm. Although painful, under ordinary circumstances it wouldn't be considered a particularly serious wound, but unfortunately it had become dangerously infected. The poisons on the Orc's weapon as well as in the very air of Mordor were not conducive to healing. Red streaks of infection could be seen stretching beyond the bounds of his makeshift bandage. Left untended, it would probably kill him.  
  
But he was near the end now, wasn't he? An infected wound hardly mattered at this point. Sam lifted his weary head and peered through the dust and gloom up the blasted side of the mountain. He wasn't exactly sure where he was supposed to go, truth be told. Frodo had never said more than he needed to drop the Ring into the "Crack of Doom". Sam gathered it was located somewhere on the mountain itself. He just wasn't sure he had the strength to find it.  
  
**************************************************************************** ****************  
  
The Armies of the West stood facing Morannon, the Black Gate of Mordor. Gandalf, Aragorn and their allies had ridden forth toward the gate calling for the enemy to show himself. They were hoping to buy time for Frodo and Sam so they could complete their task. It was a faint hope at best, but it was all they had. The wait seemed endless. No sound came from behind the monstrous gate, but they knew Sauron's forces were there. Suddenly, the gate began to slowly swing open and several figures could be seen riding through.  
  
Gandalf frowned. He knew the leader of the small party riding toward them. He was Sauron's chief lieutenant. No one remembered his true name and thus he was known to all as the Mouth of Sauron. He was well versed the black arts and fearsome to behold. He was clothed all in black with a skull-like helm covering his head. He rode a massive black horse and the riders with him bore a black banner with the sinister red eye. The Mouth of Sauron halted and surveyed the group before him.  
  
"Who here has power to deal with me?" he demanded, his voice cold and harsh. His gaze passed dismissively over Aragorn and the others, stopping only when it landed on the white Wizard.  
  
"I have such power," returned Gandalf, his voice equally cold, "Is your master ready to surrender?"  
  
The Mouth of Sauron through back his head and laughed. "I think, Greybeard," he sneered, "It is you who will be surrendering! Your army is woefully outnumbered. You cannot possibly hope to defeat the armies of the Dark Lord! However, I have not come out here to bandy words with such as you. I have come to present to you some tokens that may be of interest to you." He signaled to one of his men who rode forward to his master's side. The soldier handed the Mouth of Sauron a black bundle.  
  
Gandalf and the others watched apprehensively as Sauron's messenger unwrapped the articles in the black fabric. He then held up a small shirt of shining mithril, a gray Lothlorien cloak and a short sword such as the one Sam had carried. Pippin cried out in dismay, but Gandalf silenced him with a swift look.  
  
"Ahhh." purred the Messenger, "I see you do recognize these small tokens. We took them from your spy. A small rat he was, just like the one you have with you there. Have you any more? I cannot see what you hoped to accomplish by sending such a worthless creature into Mordor, but I can see by your expression you are disturbed by this news. Perhaps this spy was a friend of yours? Or perhaps, it is was the failure of his mission which disturbs you?"  
  
Gandalf glared back at the Mouth of Sauron, though his heart was heavy. "Yes, I recognize those items you bear. I do not deny it. What is it you hope to accomplish by displaying these things?"  
  
The Mouth of Sauron laughed again. "My master bids me to present to you his terms. You must lay down your arms and retreat over the Anduin where no man of Gondor nor any of its misguided allies will ever raise arms against my Lord Sauron again. You will have leave to govern yourselves, but you will pay tribute to Mordor. All lands east of the Anduin will be the possession of Mordor. In addition, Gondor and its allies will rebuild Isengard where new rulers will reside."  
  
The soldiers of the West growled menacingly at these terms. Gandalf glanced at them briefly, then turned his attention again to the Messenger. "Why should we believe that Sauron would allow any of his enemies to live in peace?"  
  
The Mouth of Sauron glowered at Gandalf for a moment, then signaled another of his men forward. "My Master also bids me to present to you a token of his good will to prove to you that he is sincere in keeping his part of the bargain." He turned and nodded to the soldier beside him. The man bore a larger black bundle and this he unfurled, dropping it's contents onto the ground beside him. It was Frodo. Naked and beaten, he lay unmoving in the dust beside the black horse's hooves.  
  
"Frodo!" cried Pippin, his face white with horror. Gandalf's eyes glittered dangerously. Throwing back his cloak, his gleaming white raiment fairly shone through the murky light of Mordor. He raised his shining staff and rode towards the Messenger and his men. The Mouth of Sauron recoiled from this unexpected show of power allowing Gandalf to scoop up Frodo while Pippin leapt down, scurried forward and snatched up the bundle of Frodo's belongings the soldier had dropped to the ground.  
  
"We will take both our friend and his belongings," Gandalf proclaimed loudly, "But we do not accept your foul master's terms. Go, slave of Sauron and prepare for death!" The Mouth of Sauron stared at Gandalf, his face twisted in fury. The other Captains of the West crowded around the wizard, the eyes hard with hatred and the Messenger felt fear grow in his black heart. With a cry, he turned and led his men back to the black gate. The battle would soon begin.  
  
Gandalf turned to the small figure cradled in his arms. Frodo's pallid face was gaunt and bruised. His skin covered with welts from the cruel, biting whips of his Orc captors. "Frodo!" cried Gandalf urgently, his voice barely above a whisper. Aragorn and the others joined him, staring in horror at the injured Ringbearer.  
  
"We are lost," said Legolas heavily. "The quest has failed."  
  
Aragorn looked down at Frodo and gently lay his hand on the Hobbit's bloodied head. He closed his eyes and concentrated. A few moments later, Frodo's eyes fluttered open. He stared in confusion and disbelief at the faces around him. "Gandalf?" he croaked, "Am I dead then?"  
  
Gandalf smiled warmly at his injured friend. "No, my dear Frodo," he replied softly, tears glistening in his eyes, "You are still among the living."  
  
Frodo leaned back in Gandalf's arms. Aragorn gently poured some water through Frodo's parched lips. Frodo drank eagerly. He was desperately thirsty. When he had had enough, he opened his eyes again and looked mournfully at Gandalf again. "I failed," he whispered dully, "I lost the Ring. I was attacked by a monstrous spider and when I awoke, I was a prisoner of Barad-dur and the Ring was gone." Tears were now running down his cheeks. "It was all for nothing!" He brought his hands up and covered his face, his body wracked by sobs. Aragorn reached over and gently grabbed Frodo's hands in his own. "Frodo," he said firmly, "Frodo, look at me!" Frodo blinked the tears from his eyes and tried to focus on the grim face of the Ranger. "Frodo." repeated Aragorn, "Where is Sam?"  
  
Frodo just stared at him in confusion. Sam? For a moment, he couldn't even recall who Sam was, so great was his own anguish and pain at losing the Ring. It had driven everything else from his mind. "I.I don't know," he finally stuttered. "He was with me when the spider attacked, but I haven't seen him since."  
  
Aragorn turned to Gandalf. "Do you think that perhaps Sam has the Ring?"  
  
Gandalf stared out towards Mordor, thinking hard. "It is possible." he replied slowly. "If Shelob simply stunned Frodo, Sam may have thought he was dead and took the Ring to attempt to finish the quest on his own." He stopped. Never would he have suspected that simple Samwise Gamgee would have the temerity to attempt such a feat.  
  
"Sam took the Ring!?" Frodo burst out in fury, "That thief! I knew he wanted it all along! He was just waiting for the chance." Gandalf placed his hand on Frodo's brow and chanting a spell under his breath, quickly placed Frodo into an enchanted sleep.  
  
"Is he alright?" quavered Pippin, peering at his cousin's haggard face.  
  
Gandalf looked down at the small figure beside him. "The loss of the Ring is tearing him apart," he replied grimly. "He can still feel it's presence and will always be tied to it as long as it exists." Gandalf called a soldier over. A rider from Rohan galloped forward. Gandalf carefully handed him the unconscious Hobbit. "Take Frodo to the rear," the wizard ordered. "Give him to the Healers and ask them to watch over him during the course of the Battle. It may be that we are all killed in the end, but I would have Frodo out of harm's way for as long as possible." The rider nodded and sped away weaving his way through the gathered troops, bearing his precious burden.  
  
Gandalf's shoulders slumped as he watched the rider's retreat. "There is nothing more we can do," he sighed heavily. "We do not know if Sam is alive or dead or if he even has the Ring. However, I do not believe the Enemy has it in his possession. I think we would know if he did." Suddenly, the discordant cry of trumpets could be heard from beyond the Black Gate. The Armies of the West gripped their weapons tighter as they watched the gate swing open and the first of the Enemy's forces advanced. The final battle for Middle Earth had begun. 


	3. Orodruin

Author's Note: Thanks to GamgeeFest, Bronwyn, and Sam for your kind reviews. This is just a short story, more of an exercise in writing, really. I sort of needed something to get me writing again and this seemed to work! There is only one chapter left (this is a short one). Sam angst stories really are my favorite things to write. Anyway, encouragement and constructive criticism is always welcome!  
  
Chapter 3 Orodruin  
  
Sam took a deep breath, trying to get enough air into his tortured lungs. The air around Orodruin was so choked with noxious gases and dust, that Sam felt as if he were suffocating. The unrelenting heat from the volcano was sapping what little strength he had left. Finally, he pushed himself to his feet. Moving unsteadily, he began to trudge up the steep, rock-strewn mountainside. Each step was more difficult than the last and all the while, he could feel the fiery Eye searching for him and the deadweight of the Ring pulling him down. "Well, Mr. Frodo," he thought weakly as he wiped the sweat from his eyes, "At least you were spared this misery."  
  
He didn't dare look up, afraid that the sight of what was to come would prove too discouraging and he would lose what little hope he had. Finally, after climbing over an especially difficult lava flow, Sam again collapsed, his leaden limbs refusing to bear him any further. The throbbing pain in his arm brought waves of nausea. Gasping for breath, he reluctantly looked upwards. He blinked in surprise when he realized that a few yards above him there appeared to be a road of some sort. With a burst of renewed energy, Sam crawled the distance to the road above. He didn't realize that this was Sauron's own pathway to the Sammath Naur, all he knew was that without it, he could never have gone any further.  
  
Upon reaching the unexpected causeway, Sam gathered his meager resources and managed to struggle to his feet. Although easier than climbing the sheer side of the mountain, the road was not an easy path. Many rocks and crevasses resulting the from the volcano's frequent eruptions barred his way. Yet, the courage of exhausted Hobbit refused to die. He fought his way through the hostile terrain inch by terrible inch, never wavering in his determination to destroy the evil thing in his possession.  
  
Finally, after what seemed like days of climbing, Sam spied a opening in the side of the volcano. The road disappeared into it's impenetrable darkness and Sam knew that it had to be the way to the Crack of Doom. He stood still for a few moments, trying to catch his breath preparing for the last leg of the journey. Suddenly, he caught a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. Before he could react, a heavy weight bore him to the ground . "My Precioussss!" hissed a hoarse voice in Sam's ear. "Give us back our Precious, nasty fat hobbit!" It was Gollum. He had managed to track Sam from Minas Morgul to Orudruin and was now determined to get back the Ring, his Precious.  
  
"No!" snarled Sam, heaving the wasted creature from him. The journey had been a cruel one for Gollum, just as it had been for Sam. If possible, Gollum was more emaciated and shriveled than ever but there was the unnerving light of madness in his huge eyes. Without warning, Gollum leaped again, hissing and biting at Sam's throat, fighting to get at the Ring from around the Hobbit's neck. The fear that Gollum would somehow manage to wrest the Ring from him gave Sam strength he didn't know he had. Again he managed to hurl Gollum away from him and this time, he was able to yank Sting from its scabbard.  
  
"Get away from me you wicked thing!" Sam cried furiously, thrusting the sword towards Gollum, "Now it's time to finally be rid of you once and for all!" But something stayed his hand. He stared in disgust at the whimpering, cringing creature before him.  
  
"Pleease!" Gollum begged miserably, cowering before Sam's sword. "Please, don't kill us! Don't hurts us with nasty steel! When the Precious is destroyed, we will die too! Please, let us live a little longer!"  
  
As often as he had dreamed of doing away with the evil Gollum, somehow Sam could not bring himself to kill him. Having borne the Ring himself now, he had some understanding of what drove the pathetic creature. He knew what Gollum had said was true and the destruction of the Ring would undoubtedly destroy Smeagol as well. He lowered Sting and glared at Gollum. "Get out of here," he rasped in revulsion. "I will kill you if I see one scraggly hair near me again, do you understand!?" He then made as if to kick Gollum, who scurried out of the way and out of sight.  
  
Panting with exertion, Sam stood for a moment more, watching to make sure Gollum did not return, then knowing it was now or never, he stumbled towards the opening in the mountain as fast as his heavy legs would allow. He hesitated just a moment before entering the passageway, then took a deep breath and plunged ahead.  
  
It was very dark inside the tunnel and Sam was afraid there might be holes or crevasses he might fall into. He tried the Lady's light, but the malicious darkness of this place would not be dispelled, even by such a pure light as this. Still, Sam shuffled forward, unwavering in his determination. However, the Ring seemed heavier than ever in the place of its birth and Sam could hear it calling to him constantly. "I must not listen!" he told himself grimly, "I must destroy it. In the name of Mr. Frodo, I will destroy it!" He thought of Mr. Frodo lying alone on the cold mountainside and it spurred him on.  
  
Finally, the tunnel opened onto a great fissure, red fiery light emanated from the molten rock below. The heat and the fumes nearly overcame him, but Sam was determined to finish the task he had taken on. He stumbled to the edge of the fissure and looked down. Glowing lava seethed and boiled below him. The sulphurous gases gagged him and he fought to keep his feet. Coughing deeply, he grabbed the Ring from around his neck and held it, dangling over the Crack of Doom.  
  
It was then that he should have dropped it. But at the same time, the insidious call of the Ring seemed to break through his resolve. He no longer saw himself as a small, insignificant Hobbit from the Shire, but as a heroic and powerful warrior, savior of all Middle Earth! With this Ring, he, Samwise Gamgee, could bring Sauron to his very knees and destroy him completely! He would be invincible! The Crack of Doom no long existed for him. He was immersed in a whole new world, one where he was all powerful! How long Sam might have stood like this, hypnotized by the Ring's siren song, is impossible to say. As he stood there, out of the black tunnel came a small skulking shadow. It froze for a moment but upon spying Sam standing immobile by the fissure's edge, it struck.  
  
Sam came back to himself almost immediately as Gollum tackled him and began his desperate scrabbling for possession of the Ring. Flung to the ground, Sam's head struck the rocky floor, making him see stars, but he refused to release his tenacious hold on the Ring. Both adversaries fought silently, both equally determined to have the Ring for himself. But Gollum's madness won out in the end and he finally wrenched the Ring from Sam's grasp.  
  
"Mine! Mine!" Gollum screamed in delight, clutching the Ring to his bony breast, "My Precious! My Precious!" Sam heaved himself up from the floor, blood from his injured head blinding him. He was determined to regain the Ring, when with risng horror, he watch Gollum prance away from him and onto the crumbling edge of the fissure. He balanced there for a moment and then with a cry of "My Precioussss!" Gollum disappeared over the edge and was gone, lost in fires of Sammath Naur. The Ring had been destroyed.  
  
Abruptly, Sam felt the power of the Ring release him. Gasping, he watched with growing alarm as the fires of Orodruin began rising and spewing gobs of lava. The ground beneath him started to shudder with increasing strength and Sam knew if he were to escape he had to go now. For an instant, he hesitated. What was the point of escaping? Frodo was dead, abandoned on a mountaintop. He himself was never getting out of Mordor alive, even if he could escape the erupting volcano. So, why not just stay here and be done with it? "Because," he said to himself obstinately, "I don't want my last moments on earth to be in this here black hole! I want at least a little patch of sky above me when my time comes, even if it's only the black skies of Mordor!" With that he turned, the adrenalin giving him the strength and speed he needed to escape from the tunnel before it completely collapsed.  
  
Outside wasn't much better. Clouds of soot and ash rose in billowing pillars high above him. Huge rocks were flung down about him, barely missing him. He ran as far as he could, trying to escape the flowing molten rock, but it was no use. He soon found himself on a hill of ash, completely surrounded by lava. Coughing and wheezing from the poisonous fumes, Sam stumbled to the peak of his island and collapsed. It was over. He lay on his back and peered through the plumes of smoke and debris. "Well, Mr. Frodo," he whispered skyward, "We did it. The Ring is gone." He was overcome by a fit of coughing. He lay gasping for breath. "Watch for me!" he rasped, "I'll be with you soon." With that, his strength failed and Samwise Gamgee knew no more. 


	4. Rescue from the Ashes

Author's note: OK, I lied. This story has suddenly taken on a mind of its own and gone off in an entirely different direction than I had planned. So, it will be longer than the four chapters I had figured on! Bear with me, as I'm not entirely sure where this will go, but I hope it will be interesting!  
  
Oh, I forgot this: Disclaimer: All the characters and story og Lord of the Rings are the creation and property of JRR Tolkien.  
  
Chapter 4 Rescue from the Ashes  
  
High above Sam, hidden from sight by the clouds of dust and debris was one who had not been destroyed by the downfall of the Dark Lord. The Mouth of Sauron rode on the back of a giant black eagle. He had captured the bird many years ago and using his dark sorcery, trained it to do his bidding. He had managed to escape the carnage and destruction of Sauron's domain and was now heading for friendlier climes, somewhere where he could regroup. Although not as powerful as the Dark Lord or even the Istari, he was not without considerable powers.  
  
The Mouth of Sauron had observed the frantic flight of the Nazgul towards Mt. Doom and it was then he realized there must have been more than one spy skulking around Mordor. Never in his dreams would it have occurred to the Dark Lord that Gandalf and the others would attempt to destroy the Ring of Power. Sauron had awaited a new claimant to power and by the time he had discovered his mistake, it was too late. The Ring was gone, but not all of his minions were crushed.  
  
The Mouth of Sauron decided to take one last look around Orodruin to see if he could detect any signs of the one who had destroyed the Ring. It was unlikely the spy could have survived the mountain's violent eruption, but stranger things had happened. As he and his eagle, Calaphos, soared through the pillars of smoke and ash, the black Numenorean spied a small, inert figure stranded on an island almost immersed by the lava. Could this be the one who brought about the downfall of Middle Earth's most powerful ruler? With a word to Calaphos, the bird wheeled around and dove down towards the figure. It was with some surprise that the Mouth of Sauron realized that it was another one of those Shire-rats. Would Gandalf really have sent two such miserable creatures into Mordor to destroy the Ring? The bird reached out with one of its mighty talons and seized Sam. With the Hobbit dangling limply from his its claws, the mighty eagle turned and disappeared into the east.  
  
It was a short time later that Gandalf appeared riding Gwaihir the Windlord, the mightiest of the Eagles from the North. With them was Gwaihir's brother, Landroval. Desperately, they searched for any sign of the missing Hobbit. Gandalf knew there was little hope he would be found. Mt. Doom continued spewing fire and ash into the air and great vents had opened in the side of the mountain, releasing rivers of molten lava. With a heavy heart, Gandalf finally accepted the fact that there would be no rescue of the final Ringbearer. Samwise Gamgee was lost.  
  
***************************************  
  
It was sometime later that Sam opened his eyes. He blinked slowly a few times, trying to figure out just where he was. It was dark, that much was certain, and cold. Was he dead? He didn't think so, but one could never be sure about these things. He tentatively moved his arms and legs, gasping in pain as he shifted his injured arm. He was then nearly overcome by a fierce bout of coughing, leaving him weak and perspiring. His entire body ached dreadfully. No, he wasn't dead - unfortunately.  
  
If he had indeed survived the destruction of Mt. Doom, then where was he and how did he get here? He was pondering this unexpected turn of events when he was startled by a low, melodious voice. "Lie still, Master Halfling," the voice said soothingly, "you have been to the very brink of death and although I have some power to heal, you have a long road ahead of you before you are fully recovered."  
  
"Who are you?" Sam tried to say, but his throat and mouth were so raw and parched, all he could produce what a faint whisper. He felt his head being gently lifted and a goblet held to his cracked lips. He drank deeply of the cool, fruity liquid and felt a bit stronger. He swallowed and tried again. "Who are you?"  
  
The voice laughed quietly. "I am." the voice paused, "one of the Istari."  
  
Sam frowned, puzzled. He only knew of two of the Istari - Gandalf, who was now gone, and Saruman the White. How many were there? He had no idea." "Istari?" he repeated hoarsely.  
  
The voice laughed again. "Yes, I am Moraker the Black, a very insignificant member of the Order. I spend my days wandering about studying, ah, plants."  
  
"Plants?" echoed Sam with some interest. "I'm a gardener myself! I know a lot about plants, well Shire plants anyway."  
  
"Wonderful!" enthused Moraker. "We will have many fascinating discussions to fill the time during your long convalescence. You must tell me all about the plants from your home, the Shire did you call it? I am sure I will learn much from you, but now, you must rest." Moraker murmured some words that Sam was unable to catch, but within moments, the injured Hobbit was fast asleep.  
  
The Mouth of Sauron stared down at the sleeping Hobbit and smiled coldly. It had been difficult work keeping the miserable creature alive after he had been rescued from the slope of Mt. Doom. But, as he told Sam, he did have some healing powers, although most of the time they were used to keep victims of his cruel and merciless tortures from escaping him through death. This halfling he wanted alive, at least for now.  
  
The Mouth of Sauron was a Black Numenorean, well versed in black sorcery having learned such evil arts from the Dark Lord himself. He seethed with a deep and violent hatred towards all the men of Gondor and especially towards their new "king", this Ranger from the North. He had looked forward to being the new master of Orthanc and using his considerable powers to subdue the men of the West.  
  
That had all been lost. Now, he, the Lieutenant of Barad-dur, was hiding in the mountains far to the east. It was impossible for him to attack Gondor or its king directly, he was but one man, but in his mind was formulating a plan, a way for him to make this King Elessar suffer in some small way and this halfling was going to be the key. 


	5. Moraker the Black

Author's note: Thanks for all the encouragement and reviews! It's good to be back! (  
  
Chapter 5 Moraker the Black  
  
When Sam next awoke, there was some light illuminating what appeared to be a small chamber of rock. A cave, perhaps? A tall man, clothed in black, was seated at a nearby table, his small candle providing the meager light. Sam stirred and moaned slightly. His arm and head were throbbing and he was desperately thirsty. The man turned quickly and peered over at the Hobbit laying on the cot. Sam could see him a little more clearly now, although the dim light still hid much of the man's features. "You are awake," said the man in some surprise. Sam recognized the voice as that of the Istari, Moraker. The man stood and stepped near the bed. He lay his cold hand on Sam's burning brow and frowned. "Are you in pain, Master Halfing?" he inquired with some concern.  
  
Sam nodded slightly then rasped, "Please sir, could I have some water?" In a flash Moraker again produced a goblet and helped Sam to drink. Sam lay back and sighed in relief. "Thank you, Mr. Moraker," he said faintly. "As to pain, well my arm and my head do hurt a bit." Moraker lifted the covers from Sam's arm and frowned again. The arm was still badly infected and so far his attempts to heal it had had little effect. If he couldn't destroy the infection, the halfling would die and that was something he currently wished to avoid. He then looked at Sam's head. When Gollum had knocked Sam down in Sammath Naur, Sam had received a nasty blow to the head. Moraker had stitched closed the wound, but he suspected the halfling had a slight concussion as well. Nothing to worry about, although it would give the Hobbit headaches for some time. Moraker decided he may have to go to the village further down the mountain and speak with their healer. He was no stranger there and had nothing to fear from the rather primitive Easterlings.  
  
Moraker replaced the covers and strode over to his table. Sam couldn't see what he was doing, but tried to at least get a better feel for the man himself. Sam could see that he was very tall and thin, but still couldn't tell anything about his face. Moraker returned a moment later and held a cup to Sam's mouth. "Drink this," he said, "It will help ease the pain." Sam pulled a face at the bitter concoction, but drank it down as best he could. Within a few moments, he could feel the throbbing begin to ease. He smiled his thanks to the tall man beside him. He could make out his features a little better now. The man's face was narrow, with dark, sunken eyes and a large, hawk-like nose. For a moment, Sam felt a thrill of fear run up his back as he looked into those eyes. Then, it was gone. Surely there was nothing to fear from his rescuer, was there?  
  
The mysterious wizard and pulled up a chair beside Sam's bed and looked down at the pale Hobbit, his thin face creased in thought. "Tell me, Master Halfling, what is your name and how did you come to be on the slopes of Mt. Doom?" As he spoke, he took a cool, damp cloth and laid it on Sam's feverish head.  
  
The moist cloth felt wonderful to Sam. He smiled slightly, then replied, "Well sir, my name is Samwise Gamgee. I'm a gardener from Hobbiton in the Shire. I left the Shire with my master, Frodo Baggins, to try and destroy the Ring of Power." Sam then closed his eyes, gathering the strength to begin his story. He wasn't sure he wanted to relive the whole painful, ordeal, but still, this wizard had rescued him. Sam owed him something, at least. Sam sighed and began at the beginning, with Bilbo finding the Ring under the Misty Mountains and ending with his own torturous journey through Mordor and into Orudruin itself. Tears streamed down his face as he recounted leaving Mr. Frodo in the Morgul Vale. "I would rather have cut off my own right arm," declared Sam miserably, "Than leave Mr. Frodo there all alone in that cursed place, but I couldn't see any other way! I was the only one left and the Ring had to be destroyed. It was all up to me, for better or for worse. I just hope I can go back and find him."  
  
Moraker shook his head in amazement. "That is a marvelous and heroic tale!" he declared, "One I would never have believed if I did not have some knowledge of these things myself. Imagine, Hobbits carrying the Ring of Power all the way from the Shire and under the very noses of Sauron and his Nazgul! You are a very brave and valiant Hobbit, Master Samwise. But, I think I have some news that may please you!"  
  
Sam opened his eyes and looked over at the wizard with a baffled look. "News?"  
  
"Indeed! Wonderful news!" said the wizard, grinning down at him, "Although I do not travel much these days, I have been quite concerned about the comings and goings in Mordor. I, like others of my, uh, Order, have been very worried about Sauron's rise to power and although I do not have the abilities of say, Gandalf the Gray or Saruman the White, I wanted to keep abreast of the situation so that I might help where I may. My contacts told me that there had been a terrible battle before the Black Gate of Mordor and when you destroyed the Ring, Lord Sauron and his allies were crushed!"  
  
Sam struggled to sit up in his excitement. A bout of harsh coughing caused him to collapse back onto his cot. The poisonous fumes of Mr. Doom had wreaked havoc on his lungs. "Sauron has been destroyed?" he wheezed, laboring to catch his breath. "Truly?"  
  
"Yes, yes!" laughed Moraker, "But that is not all! I believe your master, Frodo, is alive!"  
  
Sam gaped at him in shocked disbelief. "Nooooo," he whispered, his eyes wide, "No! That's impossible! He was dead! He was cold as ice! He couldn't still be alive!  
  
"I see you understand little of the ways of spiders, Master Samwise," smiled Moraker, "They do not kill their prey before eating them, they just stun them. But, as I was saying, I was told that a small man, a halfling, had been captured near Minas Morgul in the Pass of Cirith Ungol. Sauron thought he was a spy. However, he was released to whomever was leading the army of the men as a token of Sauron's willingness to deal with them. As far as I know, he was still alive. And.." he smiled again, "So is our friend, Gandalf!"  
  
Sam lay back and blinked in confusion. It was too much for a simple Hobbit to absorb. Frodo AND Gandalf still alive!? Sauron defeated? Were all the bad things in the world going to come undone? He lay there for several minutes, digesting all this unexpected news. Suddenly, he heart leaped with joy as he realized the full meaning of what he had learned. "Master Frodo is truly alive? I must get back to him! Where is he now, do you know?" He looked up eagerly into Moraker's face.  
  
The wizard was frowning gently and shaking his head. "I am sorry, Samwise," he said, "But you are in no condition to travel such a long way! It would certainly be the death of you and I am sure that your friends would be prefer to find that you survived your ordeal. I am certain that at the moment, they must believe you perished on Orodruin."  
  
Sam bit his lip as he considered this. It really hadn't occurred to him that the others would presume him dead, but after the mountain had exploded and him supposedly in the middle of it, what else could they believe? He turned again to his rescuer, "Please, Mr. Moraker, sir" he began anxiously, "Is there anyway I might send a message back to Mr. Frodo and the others? I don't rightly know where we are and maybe it would take a long time, but I'd sure rest easier if I could let them know I was alive."  
  
Sam was thinking hard. How could he let Mr. Frodo know he had survived the Quest and as he thought about this, it occurred to him that he really had no idea exactly HOW he had managed to survive. How had he gotten away from the erupting volcano? And where was he now? He turned slowly to Moraker, these questions swirling in his brain. "Excuse me," he said, "I don't mean to sound rude, but how did I get here? And where IS here?"  
  
It was a moment before the wizard answered him. "You are in the land of the Easterlings, far from your home and Gondor, I am afraid. As to how you got here, well, I know of a great Eagle who will from time to time consent to carry me. I felt I should see for myself what was going on. I saw Mt. Doom exploding and Barad-dur collapsing. That told me, of course, that the Ring of Power must have been destroyed. It was simply by chance that I came upon you lying there amidst the chaos. A few minutes more, and it would have been too late to save you. As it was, I was not sure you were still alive. I suppose I should have returned you to Gondor, but I did not know what the conditions there were like, so brought you here, to my little hideaway in the mountains."  
  
Sam digested this information. For some reason, he felt sure there was something this man was not telling him. His good common Hobbit-sense was sending him warnings, but he simply didn't know what they meant. He would have to give this more thought. "Could the eagle take a message?" asked Sam hopefully.  
  
Moraker shook his head. "I am sorry to say that he has already returned to his home far in the North. No, I'm afraid it will have to be some other way." He was silent for a few minutes tapping his mouth with his long fingers. "I suppose I might ask one of the villagers in village further down the mountain if they would consent to take a message. Many of their men have left to fight for Sauron, but I have made friends of some of the younger ones. I will see what I can do. In the meantime, Samwise Gamgee, you must get some rest. I will go down to the village and see about sending a message as well as get you some food. You must be very hungry!"  
  
Now that he thought about it, Sam realized he was starving. It had been so long since he had eaten anything besides Lembas bread, and even that seemed long ago. The thought of real food lifted his spirits immediately. "I surely could go for some good stew or bread or even an apple!" he sighed happily.  
  
"I will see what I can do, Master Hobbit," replied Moraker as he prepared to leave. He placed his hand on the Hobbit's head, repeated his sleeping spell and within seconds, Sam was deep in slumber.  
  
"Sleep well, Samwise Gamgee," murmured the Mouth of Sauron scornfully as he prepared to leave. "I will send your message to your dear friends and let us see who comes to visit!" With a harsh laugh, he fastened his black cloak around him and swept out of the chamber. Sam slept on peacefully, blissfully unaware of his true predicament. 


	6. A Trap is Planned

Author's Note: Thanks again to everyone who reviewed! Bookworm 2000: Moraker is trying to make Sam think everything is great so when our favorite Hobbit finally realizes the truth, it will be that much worse. He's a subtle kind of bad guy!  
  
Becky: I'm glad you've enjoyed my stories! I don't think I'm really that good, but heck, I have a lot of fun and as long as people enjoy them, I guess that's the important thing.  
  
Welcome back, Aly! I loved how Sean Astin played Sam in the movies. The cartoon versions always made Sam into such a major doofus. Sean made him real!  
  
Thanks for the great review Aemilia Rose! I've always had an interest in the Mouth of Sauron (I was mad he was cut from the movie!), so I thought I'd stick him a story with Sam. We'll see how this goes!  
  
Sam: You know when I wrote that line about all the bad things coming undone, it seemed familiar, so I went back and looked and you were right. That's what Sam says when he wakes up. Oops!  
  
And of course thanks to my old friends Gamgeefest, Samwise the Strong, motormouth and Bronwyn! I really appreciate you taking the time to read and review!  
  
Chapter 6 A Trap is Planned  
  
The Mouth of Sauron began his trek down the mountain to the small village below. Many years ago, before Sauron began to regain his power, his lieutenant had fled to these mountains to await his Lord's reemergence. The villagers feared and respected him, but avoided him at all costs. His cruelty to those that opposed him was legendary.  
  
The village consisted of a number of small, wooden huts heavily daubed with clay. The population primarily consisted of women, children and old men. Most of the younger men had left to fight for the Dark Lord. He stopped at the largest hut, that of the chieftain of the tribe, an old man called Ankara. The Mouth of Sauron stepped in without any sort of introduction. The old man sitting on the floor looked up, startled. "My, My Lord!" he stuttered coming to his feet and bowing before the intimidating figure before him. "How may I serve you?"  
  
The Mouth of Sauron looked down from his great height unto the bent figure of the chieftain. "I need someone to take a message for me," he said abruptly. "He must be young and quick and reasonably intelligent. Surely there is someone in this poor excuse for a dung heap that is able to assist me?"  
  
Ankara thought for a moment. He had been a proud man, once, but this dark man from the mountains terrified him. He dared not offend him. "My. my son, Radak might be able to help you. He has recently returned from battle with news of the Dark Lord's defeat. He." Ankara stopped abruptly, his face going white as he realized who he was speaking with. The Black Wizard, as they called him, was known to be in league with Sauron himself. Ankara looked up nervously to find the Dark Man smiling grimly.  
  
"I am fully aware of what has happed to Lord Sauron," he snapped, "Now, where is your worthless son? If he fails in the mission I have for him, I shall kill each and every one of the pathetic dogs you call people in this village and your deaths will not be pleasant or painless. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" Ankara's eyes went wide as he nodded vigorously then scurried out of the hut to find his son.  
  
The Mouth of Sauron waited impatiently. He was eager to set his plan into motion. A few moments later, Ankara returned, followed by a tall, dark skinned warrior. The man wore the distinctive armor of the Easterling army and he narrowed his dark eyes at the tall man before him. He knew the Mouth of Sauron both from here in the village when he was a child and from when he and the rest of the army gathered on the Gorgoroth Plain for the battle at the Black Gate. The Mouth of Sauron used words and fear to coerce cooperation from the minions of Sauron and all sane men feared him. The warrior licked his lips nervously and bowed.  
  
"How may I be of service, my Lord?" he asked politely. He was a brave man in battle but even he avoided looking Black Wizard in the eye.  
  
"I wish for you to go to Minas Tirith," began the Mouth of Sauron, "I wish you find the halflings that are there. I believe there are three of them. I have been told their names are Frodo Baggins, Merry Brandybuck, and Pippin Took. They are special friends of Gandalf the White and the new king of Gondor. I want you to bring them to me here."  
  
The soldier looked up at this and frowned. "My lord? How am I to accomplish such a task? I am an enemy of Gondor. They will kill me on sight. And these halflings you speak of. What are they? How will I recognize them? Do you want them alive?"  
  
The Mouth of Sauron smiled again. At least this soldier seemed to have some intelligence. His questions were valid ones. "Halfings are small men, about the size of children. They come from a place in the West called the Shire. I do not want them killed. You are to convince them that they must come with you to rescue their dear companion, Samwise Gamgee. They believe him to be dead, you see. He is the one that destroyed the Ring of Power."  
  
Radak's eyes widened with surprise then darkened. "And you suffer this creature to live?" he demanded angrily. "Lord Sauron promised us the green lands of Gondor and now you tell me you have the one that destroyed our future? Where is he? I will kill him myself!" Radak stood stiffly before the Mouth of Sauron, seething with barely restrained anger. The false wizard nodded in satisfaction. Yes, this young man would work out splendidly.  
  
"Believe me," the Mouth of Sauron replied smoothly, "He will suffer and that is part of the reason I want his companions here. I wish to make them all suffer, especially that new "king" and his lackey wizard, Gandalf. These particular halflings are very dear to them and it is my desire that the little rats feel the wrath of the Mouth of Sauron. The agony that I will inflict upon them will be nothing compared to the pain that this Aragorn and Gandalf will experience upon learning what I have done to their pets." He smiled thinly. "I may not be able to do much directly to hurt Gondor, but this will certainly strike at their heart! I am keeping dear Master Samwise alive so that he will not die too quickly when the fun begins."  
  
Radak regarded the Black Man thoughtfully. "So, you wish me to find these three halflings and inform them their friend is alive and bring them here?"  
  
"Yes," replied the Mouth of Sauron, "But it is imperative that no one else know. You must convince them that only they can safely rescue their companion and that it will mean certain death for Master Gamgee if anyone else comes along. I do not want Aragorn or Gandalf to know they have left until it is too late." He tilted his head in thought for a moment. "I will send you along with a group of emissaries being sent to Minas Tirith to deal with the king. I suggest you bring along someone younger, a boy perhaps, that you can use to approach the halflings. They are less likely to suspect someone so seemingly innocent. Be sure the halflings do not suspect that this is a trap. Treat them as companions. Make up some story as to why you wish to help them." He smiled again. "I find that when someone discovers they have been betrayed by a "friend" the pain I inflict later is just that more exquisite." He thought of the injured Hobbit locked up in his mountain lair and licked his lips in anticipation. Not only would that rat suffer the pain of betrayal, but also the pain of leading his friends into a trap. This was getting better all the time!  
  
Radak nodded. "I will bring my son, Jalan. He is trustworthy and well- trained. He will do as he is told."  
  
"Excellent," the Mouth of Sauron replied. "You will leave immediately and join up with the emissaries two days south of here. That will give you the cover you need to enter the city" He then reached into his cloak and brought out a small crystal phial. It was the Lady Galadriel's gift to Frodo, the light of the star, Earendil. "Take this with you." he commanded, handing the phial to Radak. "This token should prove to the others you speak the truth concerning their friend."  
  
Radak looked with some interest at the lovely phial, then packed it away. "Yes, my Lord. I will gather my things and my son and leave within the hour." With a bow to the Mouth of Sauron and a nod to his father, the soldier turned and strode from the hut. He would find his son and then the two of them would head out on their mission to bring the Hobbits to the Mouth of Sauron. Radak thought of the one already in the Black Wizard's grasp. He hoped the wizard would allow him to participate in the torture of that one - the one who destroyed the Ring and all their plans of glory. He smiled grimly. That was certainly something to look forward to. 


	7. Contact is Made

Chapter 7 Contact is Made  
  
Frodo stared out over the ramparts of Minas Tirith. The war was over and now came the arduous job of putting the world back to rights again. He and the other two surviving Hobbits had been highly honored for their parts in the downfall of Sauron, but the most famous Hobbit of them all, Samwise Gamgee, had not been there to receive his accolades. "Ah Sam, " sighed Frodo looking out towards the East. The smoke of Orodruin still visible over the mountains. "So much has happened since I last saw you in the Morgul vale." Frodo stopped and looked down at his pale, thin hands, tears misting his eyes. He closed his eyes a moment and took a deep breath. Sam's death was still so painful. "You'd like Minas Tirith, Sam." he continued weakly, wiping the tears away. "Captain Faramir is here and Gandalf and Legolas and Gimli and of course Pippin and Merry . And Sam, Aragorn is going to be king! Can you believe that? I know you didn't trust him when we first met in Bree, but he is to be the new king of Gondor. He has changed a lot! He will make a wonderful king." He paused again. "I wish you were here to see it." he whispered misery coloring his words.  
  
He often came up here to talk to Sam. Somehow being able to see the smoke of the volcano made him feel more in touch with his fallen friend. Merry and Pippin were very worried about their cousin. Physically, he had recovered from his punishing ordeal of carrying the Ring and the aftermath of its destruction, but he had not shown any sign of recovering from Sam's death. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep. He spent all his time up on the high walls talking to himself. Grief and guilt were making it difficult for him to move on. Both his cousins had tried to help him, encouraging him to eat by presenting him with his favorite foods and trying to focus his attention on different things, but nothing worked.  
  
Pippin looked down from where he and Merry were sitting on the wall of the uppermost tier of the White City. He was watching Frodo on the level below. "There he goes again, Merry." he sighed, looking over at his cousin who nodded sadly. "What are we going to do? He'll get sick if he keeps this up!"  
  
Merry turned away, his eyes burning. He also felt Sam's death very deeply. Somehow, he thought they'd all manage to make it home to the Shire together and the loss of Sam was far more difficult than he had ever imagined. He knew Pippin felt it as well, but his young cousin tried to avoid thinking about it by focusing on Frodo instead. 'I know, Pip." he sighed. "I was hoping to speak to Gandalf about Frodo, but he's been so busy with setting up new governments and what have you, that I can never seem to even find him. I know he'd be worried if he knew how Frodo was reacting, but it looks like it's up to us to help him." He gave a small laugh. Yes, they were Heroes of Middle Earth alright, but now that the war was over, they were little more than inconvenient guests. Aragorn and Gandalf were far too busy to have much to do with them and Legolas and Gimli were often off on missions of their own. Granted, everyone was kind to them and honored them, but no one had time for them. So, they wandered around, left to their own devices.  
  
"Come on, Pippin." said Merry, sliding down from the wall "Let's go for a walk. Maybe we can find something that will take Frodo's mind off Sam, at least for a little while."  
  
The two cousins began a leisurely walk down towards the lower tiers of the city. It was a fascinating place to them, but they yearned for the green meadows and rolling hills of the Shire. Merry was wondering if the folks back home ever thought about them. What on earth would they think of all the things he, Pippin, Frodo and Sam had been doing? He gave another short laugh. They probably would have been appalled. Hobbits were not supposed to go on adventures! Look at that Bilbo Baggins and what adventuring did to him!  
  
Merry was lost in his reverie when suddenly he felt Pippin grab his arm and cry "Careful!" Merry looked up just in time to avoid being run down by a band of foreign soldiers riding through the city up to the Citadel. It was common these days to see such groups of emissaries from distant kingdoms, arriving to discuss terms with the new king of Gondor. These were strange looking soldiers. They wore an exotic form of armor - layers of jagged scales with brightly colored clothing beneath. They were dark skinned and noble looking. The Hobbits were impressed.  
  
"Easterlings!" spat a Gondorian soldier standing near them. The Hobbits turned to look at him. "They were hoping to have Gondor for themselves, I'm told." he growled, "Now, after all they time they fought for Sauron, they want to make peace." He spat again in disgust and stalked off. Merry and Pippin stared at each other before looking back at the Easterlings again.  
  
"Merry!" whispered Pippin, "That one is only a child!" Sure enough, the cousins spied a boy, perhaps 12 or 13 years of age riding alongside one of the knights. The boy turned to stare unabashedly at the Hobbits. It was obvious he had never seen such small men before. Pippin smiled and waved. The boy stared harder, then gave a tentative wave as he continued up the hill and out of sight.  
  
"He must be a squire to one of the knights, " said Merry watching the last of the Easterlings disappear. "I wonder what it must be like where they come from?"  
  
"Maybe we could speak with him," suggested Pippin with interest. "He probably won't be as busy as the soldiers. Let's follow them and find out where they're staying!"  
  
Merry nodded and the two turned and hurried back up the way they had come, following the path of the Easterlings. When they got to the top of the city, they found the Easterlings dismounted and milling around awaiting an audience with the king. The ambassador and his assistants had already gone into the throne room, while the guard waited outside. The Hobbits caught sight of the boy sitting under the shade of one of the buildings eating some bread. He looked up and again stared at the two Hobbits.  
  
"Come on, Merry!" said Pippin, grabbing his cousin's arm, and the two walked over to the boy. They stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure of how to begin. They had no idea if the boy spoke Westron and they hesitated before speaking.  
  
The boy looked around cautiously then said quietly, "Are you halflings? " He stared at them intensely, his dark eyes watching them carefully. "I am looking for three halflings."  
  
Merry and Pippin stared at him, their mouths open with shock. "Yes," said Merry slowly. "We're halflings. Who are you looking for?"  
  
The boy looked around again, making sure none of the soldiers were nearby. He learned closer to the Hobbits. "I am looking for three halflings that go by the names of Frodo, Merry, and Pippin. Would that be you or would you know where I can find them?"  
  
Merry and Pippin exchanged surprised glances. "What do you want with them?" asked Merry guardedly, eyeing the boy with some suspicion.  
  
"I have a message for them," said the boy. "From a friend who needs their help."  
  
Again Merry and Pippin looked at each other. They were completely baffled by this turn of events. "Who are you talking about?" Pippin asked with a frown. The boy said nothing, but reached into his tunic and pulled out a small object carefully wrapped in cloth. He handed it to Merry. The Hobbit stared at it for a moment then carefully peeled back the layers to reveal the phial containing light of Earendil.  
  
Merry gasped in surprise, "This was the Lady Galadriel's gift to Frodo! How did you get this?" He stopped abruptly and stared at the boy again. "Sam."  
  
"Sam!" cried Pippin excitedly, grabbing the boy's arm. "You've seen Sam!? Is he alive? Where is he?"  
  
The boy pulled away from Pippin's grasp. "Shhh!" he hissed, looking around nervously. "Can we go somewhere more private?" Some of the other men were watching them with obvious curiosity..  
  
"Yes," replied Merry quickly, "Come with us to our apartments, but let us find Frodo first. He must hear this as well!" He then turned to the boy. "Do you have a name?" "Jalan," replied the boy rising gracefully to his feet. "Please, let us go quickly."  
  
Pippin turned to Merry. "I'll go find Frodo and meet you at the apartment."  
  
Merry nodded, "Good idea, Pip. But don't say anything to Frodo yet. Not until we know more about this." Pippin also nodded and scurried off down the roadway to where they had last seen Frodo. Merry turned to Jalan. "Come on. It's not far!" The Hobbit hurried off with the boy following closely behind. The soldiers quickly lost interest and turned their attention to other things. All but one. Radak continued to watch as his son disappeared into a nearby building with one of the halflings. So far, everything was going even better than he had hoped.  
  
Pippin hurried down the cobbled street, nimbly dodging people and carts as he went. Panting, he soon reached the secluded section of wall where Frodo stood staring morosely out into the distance. Frodo looked up and watched indifferently as Pippin raced towards him. "Frodo!" Pippin gasped trying to catch his breath as he stumbled to a halt. "Frodo!" he repeated, "You must come with me! There's someone you must meet!"  
  
"I'm sorry, Pippin" sighed Frodo wearily, "I'm really not up to seeing anyone today. Please give them my regrets."  
  
"No, Frodo!" cried Pippin insistently. "It's extremely important. You really do want to meet this person!"  
  
But Frodo had already turned away to resume his solitary reverie. He had no desire to speak with anyone and was wishing Pippin would just leave him alone. With a small gasp of surprise, Frodo found himself seized by the arm and turned abruptly to face his cousin. "Frodo." said Pippin with great intensity. "You must come and meet this boy." He paused, thinking about what Merry had said, but decided that desperate times required desperate measures. He grabbed Frodo's arms more firmly. "He says he knows something about Sam!"  
  
Frodo frowned at Pippin as if he couldn't quite understand what his cousin was saying. "What are you talking about?" he asked irritably. "How could some boy know anything about Sam? Sam was lost in Mordor! Someone is playing a cruel joke on you, Pippin!"  
  
"But Frodo," continued Pippin, undeterred, "He had the Lady's gift to you - the phial with the Light of Earendil! You told us Sam must have taken it as it wasn't with the items the Mouth of Sauron brought. How else could this boy have gotten it if not from Sam?"  
  
Frodo continued to shake his head in disbelief, but there was sudden spark of hope in his eyes. His pressed his lips tightly together. No. He mustn't get his hopes up. It must be some sort of misunderstanding. "Fine, Pippin. I'll come with you, but I don't believe Sam could possibly still be alive. It's very possible that some orc took the Lady's gift and somehow the boy found it. We don't know for certain that Sam had it."  
  
"Alright, Frodo," agreed Pippin in exasperation, "Maybe that's true, but let's find out what he has to say. Merry has taken him to our apartments." So, without further discussion, the two Hobbits hurried to their sumptuous apartments in the palace of the White City. Merry and Jalan were waiting with growing impatience.  
  
Frodo studied the boy with misgiving, but was ready to hear what he had to say. "What is this about Sam?" he demanded after he was introduced to the boy. "Where did you get this phial?" He was turning the Lady's gift over in his hands. It was his all right.  
  
The boy hesitated, then began. "I live in small village in the mountains of western Rhun. There is an evil black wizard who lives in the mountains not far from my village. He is a faithful follower of Sauron and I hear he was very important in Mordor. After the battle at the Black Gate, this man returned, flying on a great eagle. He bore with him a small man, such as yourselves. Sometimes I serve the Black Wizard when he is in his mountain dwelling. It is a terrifying place. Anyway, I was summoned soon after his return and saw this little man. I was able to speak with him, although he was sorely injured and very ill. He told me his name was Samwise Gamgee. Over time, I befriended him and when I discovered that my father would be riding with the emissary of Rhun to Minas Tirith, I offered to carry a message for Samwise. He told me to find three halflings by the names of Frodo, Merry, and Pippin and to tell them that he was alive and needed help. He gave me that bottle as a token to prove that I come from him" The boy stopped and looked at the three Hobbits before him. "The Black Wizard is a cruel man and Samwise is suffering much at his hand. He is very angry that such a small person could have destroyed all of Lord Sauron's great plans. Samwise's suffering will go on for a very long time if he is not rescued."  
  
Frodo, Merry and Pippin stared silently at the boy, still having a difficult time believing what they had just heard. Tears glistened in Frodo's eyes as he studied the phial. "Sam." he whispered in despair, "Is it possible that you still live?" He suddenly raised his eyes to those of Merry and Pippin. "We must find Gandalf!"  
  
"No!" cried the boy anxiously, reaching out as if to hold Frodo back. "You mustn't tell anyone! If the Black Wizard finds out I told about Samwise, my entire village will be destroyed, as well as your friend!"  
  
Frodo was standing now, quivering with rage and a growing sense of urgency. "We must go rescue Sam!" he cried, "We can't leave him to torture and death!" His cousins stood beside him, also looking resolute. Frodo turned to Jalan. "What must we do?" 


	8. The Pretense Ends

Author's Note: Thanks again to all of you that have taken time to review!  
  
Chapter 8 The Pretense Ends  
  
Sam was feeling much better these days. The poultice Moraker had been using on his wounded arm had drawn out much of the infection and his fever was gone. He was still somewhat weak and seem to be experiencing an odd sense of loss. He supposed it had to do with the destruction of the Ring and separation from Mr. Frodo. He hoped the empty feeling would lessen as time went on and when he was finally reunited with his beloved master.  
  
He spent most of his days puttering around the small room. Moraker had not allowed him to go elsewhere in his mountain domain. He claimed that Sam would get lost in the labyrinth of caverns and there were unpleasant creatures lurking in some of the remote areas. Remembering his run-in with the giant spider in the pass of Cirith Ungol, Sam was not inclined to doubt him. Still, he was bored and the small space was beginning to make him feel rather claustrophobic. He yearned for blue skies and green, growing things. He was also lonely. The strange wizard spent less and less time with Sam, and the Hobbit was somewhat disturbed to find the door to the chamber was locked when Moraker was elsewhere.  
  
"Now, Samwise," he scolded himself upon making this troubling discovery, "He probably just keeps it locked to keep them evil creatures out!" Still, a small seed of doubt was beginning to grow. There was something about Moraker that made Sam increasingly uneasy as time went on. Sometimes he felt as if the wizard was studying him as a predator does its prey. Sam tried to shrug this off as his own overactive imagination, but it was becoming more and more difficult. Then, one day, he came to the unhappy realization that Hobbit sense was not something to be ignored.  
  
A few weeks before, Moraker had informed Sam that he had found someone willing to take a message to Minas Tirith and Sam was anxiously awaiting some sort of news that it had been received. He had visions of Gandalf flying in on one of Mr. Bilbo's giant eagles and rescuing him. He daydreamed about his reunion with Frodo, Merry and Pippin and how happy he would be. He was in the midst of such happy musings when he heard the door of his chamber open. Blinking, he looked up to see Moraker standing very still in the doorway. In one hand, he held a small piece of parchment, in the other, a dead bird. He stared at Sam with such alarming intensity that Sam felt a thrill of fear run down his back. He watched apprehensively as the wizard slowly stepped into the room, radiating a aura of malevolence that Sam had not felt before.  
  
"Well, Master Gamgee," said the wizard, his cold voice full of menace, "It seems as if it is time for all pretenses to end." Sam just stared at him, confused and with a growing sense of alarm. "I have here a note from my messenger. He has made contact with your three friends, just as you requested and is escorting them here." He smirked as he watched Sam's eyes light up with hope. "Do not get too excited about this, halfling," said the Mouth of Sauron contemptuously. "They do not come to rescue you, they come to join you in death!"  
  
Sam was dumbfounded. He simply stared at this man in complete bewilderment. Why was he saying these things? "I.I don't understand! Who are you? I thought the Istari helped people!" stuttered Sam.  
  
The man laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. "You little fool," he sneered. "I am not one of those accursed Istari. I am the Mouth of Sauron, the Lieutenant of Barad-dur! I was Lord Sauron's right-hand and was to be given Isengard as my reward." He studied Sam for a moment, then grabbed the terrified Hobbit by the arm. "Come with me." he snapped and pulled Sam after him through the door and into the dark passageway beyond.  
  
The Mouth of Sauron wrenched a sputtering torch from the wall sconce and strode along the dark, damp passages of his mountain stronghold. Sam had to run to keep from being dragged and was panting hard. It seemed to the shaken Hobbit that they traveled for miles before finally stopping before a massive wooden door, studded with iron. The Mouth of Sauron looked down at Sam, his mouth bared in a feral grin. "This is my playroom, Master Halfling," he announced, a touch of excitement in his voice. "You and I will spend many hours here. And when your friends arrive, so shall they."  
  
The Mouth of Sauron pulled open the heavy door and flung Sam in through the doorway before him. Sam went sprawling on the cold, stone floor, crying out in surprise. As he slowly looked up to appraise his situation, he felt his blood run cold. This was no "playroom", but a chamber of horrors. The dungeon was relatively well lit with numerous torches on each wall and a brightly glowing brazier in the center. Along the far back wall, he could see several small, dark cells, their heavy bars keeping their victims in, but allowing them to observe the torments of others. The room was full of instruments of torture. A gentle Hobbit such as Sam would have little knowledge of such things, but it took no imagination to understand the pain and mutilation these abhorrent contraptions could inflict. Along the walls were whips and other tools of punishment. Sam looked down at the floor beneath him, dark splotches stained the grey rock. Sam shuddered. He had no doubt what had created those.  
  
Sam was roughly hauled to his feet. He stood trembling, still trying to make sense of all this. The Mouth of Sauron had Sam's collar clenched firmly in his hand, nearly choking the wretched Hobbit. The tall man seemed to be searching the chamber for something. Finally, he strode over towards one of the walls where rusted shackles hung limply, the black metal mottled with rust-colored patches like some repellant fungus. This particular set was usually reserved for the village children the Black Wizard used in his obscene rituals needed to prolong his unnaturally long life. They would work perfectly for this halfling.  
  
Sam cried out in pain as the man brutally thrust the Hobbit's hands into the rough metal cuffs, clamping them so tightly, the shackles drew blood. The Mouth of Sauron smiled mercilessly. Sam stood facing the wall, his arms held above his head. He was afraid if he moved, the pain from the shackles would intensify. He looked over his shoulder, and watched full of dread as his captor stood by the collection of whips and cudgels. A cold sweat broke out on Sam's face as he observed the man pull down a small, metal tipped whip and look sideways at the white-faced Hobbit, a sadistic smile forming on his thin lips.  
  
Fingering the whip, he slowly strolled towards where Sam stood violently trembling. He stopped a few feet away, surveying his victim. "Well, Master Samwise," he said, the deadly calm of his voice terrified Sam even more than if the man had screamed at him. "I do not wish to kill you. At least, not yet, but I think you might enjoy a preview of some of our activities prior to your friends' arrival. Then, you can enjoy watching them enjoy my hospitality, all thanks to you!" Sam closed his eyes with a sob. It was true. He had told this monster everything and now his friends were going to pay the price for his gullibility. He had only a moment to think on this when with a yelp of surprise and pain, he felt his shirt ripped from his body. He knew what was coming, and tried to steel himself for the first bite of the lash, but when it came, the white-hot pain was far worse than he could have possibly imagined.  
  
Each strike of the whip was worse than the last and soon Sam could feel warm blood trickling down his back. His throat was hoarse with his screams of agony. Finally, as he skirted the boundaries of unconsciousness, he again thought of his dear friends and what awaited them here in this hell. His last thought as blackness took him was the heartfelt belief that things would have been much better for everyone if he had died alone on the ravaged slopes of Mt. Doom. 


	9. A Rescue Party

Author's Note: Thanks again to my faithful readers and reviewers!  
  
Danny Barefoot: Thanks for your insightful review. *sigh* I really do need to get a life outside of torturing Hobbits. I know what part you are talking about regarding Frodo's response to Sam taking the Ring. It felt repetitive, but necessary since I have to write the story as if no one has ever read one of my bizarre stories before! Anyway, I really appreciate your constructive comments. They meant a lot to me.  
  
Gamgeefest: Well, since you have apparently ripped the Mouth of Sauron's head off, I guess the story is over! You rescued Sam and now everyone can live happily ever after! Well done! LOL!  
  
Sam, Aly, Aemilia, Bookworm2000: Yes, the evil Moraker does deserve to die in searing pain and mortal agony! But what fun would there be if there weren't Evil Bad Guys for us all to hate!?  
  
Anyway, here is the next chapter in a story that was only supposed to be 4 chapters long!  
  
Chapter 9 A Rescue Party  
  
Merry was exhausted and very sore. He was seated on a large horse and firmly held by the man behind him. He was beginning to wonder if he would ever walk on solid ground again. The weary Hobbit looked over his shoulder at the riders on the horse behind and could see Pippin, sitting in front of Jalan, nodding sleepily . Frodo was taking his turn riding on the small pack horse that followed. He too looked bone weary. They had been traveling for well over two weeks toward the eastern land of Rhun. Although they had traveled rapidly during the first week or so, they had slowed to a more comfortable pace. Still, the journey seemed endless. Looking out onto the barren plains surrounding them, Merry thought back to their hasty departure.  
  
"You mustn't tell anyone!" Jalan had cried anxiously. "It would mean the death of your friend and the destruction of my village! Please! My father is no friend of Sauron or the Black Wizard. The wizard killed my mother and brothers. Our king forced all our men to fight for the Dark Lord Sauron. Because of this, my father has agreed to help rescue your friend."  
  
The three Hobbits stared disconcertedly at Jalan, trying to figure out what to do. Although Frodo was more than ready to leave immediately, he realized that doing so without help could very well end in disaster. "If we talk to Gandalf," he began slowly, "He could certainly help save Sam. What would he think if we just disappeared?"  
  
The boy watched Frodo, his smooth face creased in a frown. "I do not know this Gandalf you speak of, but my father and I will be departing for Rhun at dawn tomorrow carrying messages for the king. If you wish to help your friend, Sam, you must come with us then. Alone. If not, he will die. The choice is yours." With that, the boy turned on his heel and strode from the room.  
  
Frodo, Merry, and Pippin were dumbfounded by the boy's abrupt departure. What should they do? Finally, Merry spoke up. "I think we need to go rescue Sam, but I believe we should tell Gandalf first. " His cousins nodded in reluctant agreement. Frodo feared what would happen to Sam if they couldn't get to him in time, but on the other hand, he was hesitant to simply leave without letting Gandalf know what was going on. With worried sighs, the three Hobbits left their apartments and began searching for the white wizard.  
  
Unfortunately, things did not go as expected. After making their way to the Citadel, they came upon Pippin's friend from the Tower guard. "Beregond!" cried Pippin catching the attention of the tall soldier. Beregond turned and smiled in genuine delight at the sight of his friend.  
  
"Ho there, Pippin!" he returned merrily, striding towards them, "I haven't laid eyes on you in days! How are you?"  
  
"I'm fine," replied Pippin hurriedly, "We are trying to find Gandalf. Have you seen him?"  
  
"Aye," nodded Beregond, "He and the King left last night. I heard they would be gone for a day or two. I am not sure what their purpose is, but have no fear, they will be back before you know it."  
  
The Hobbits stared at him in disbelief. "Left?" cried Frodo, "You're certain of this?"  
  
Beregond eyed the halflings with growing concern. "I saw them ride out myself. In fact, I was to bring you the message. Is there a problem?"  
  
Frodo was about to speak when he spied Jalan and a tall Easterling soldier staring at them from across the courtyard. "That must be Jalan's father," he thought absently, but it was the fearful look on Jalan's face that stopped Frodo from saying anything about Sam. "No," he said instead, still looking Jalan, "No, we just wanted to speak with him, that's all." He glanced up at Beregond's concerned face. "Thank you." He and the others turned and started glumly back towards their apartments. It seemed as if their decision had been made for them. If they did not leave with Jalan and his father in the morning, then they were condemning Sam to unspeakable suffering and undoubtedly a prolonged death. They had no choice. They must leave at dawn.  
  
So, here they were miles and miles from Minas Tirith, skirting the northern edge of Mordor. Jalan's father, Radak, had proven to be a taciturn man who spoke only when necessary. He had confirmed Jalan's story about Sam and his own hatred of Sauron and his evil minion. He made it quite clear, however, although that he was willing to help them, he was not willing to place his son in danger. Somehow, that was almost reassuring to the nervous Hobbits. There was always the fear that this was some sort of trap.  
  
Pippin awoke with a jerk as he began to slide off the horse. Only Jalan's quick reflexes prevented him from sprawling into the dust below. "How much farther is it to your village?" he asked the boy testily . Like Merry, Pippin was thoroughly fed up with horses and travel. Plus, there simply was not enough eating involved in this trip. These Easterlings were stingy with their rations and Pippin missed the abundant tables of Minas Tirith.  
  
The boy sighed irritably, refusing to answer the same question this Hobbit seem to ask almost hourly. Jalan found these halflings particularly vexing. They were not warriors, which were truly the only people of any importance. He himself would be a warrior someday and as far as he was concerned, these halflings were of little more use than children. He found it very difficult to believe that they had supposedly accomplished great feats of bravery. Frodo, the one behind him, was said to have carried the Ring of Power for many months across Middle Earth, to the very gates of Mordor itself. The one sitting before him, Pippin, was said to have rescued Lord Faramir of Gondor from certain death. Merry, riding with Jalan's father helped destroy the Witch King himself! And of course, there was the one already imprisoned by the Black Wizard. That one was supposed to have destroyed Lord Sauron's Ring. Jalan shook his head. It was beyond comprehension.  
  
They had come to the crest of a rise in the land and Jalan pulled his horse to a stop as his father halted in front of him. Radak turned to his son and the Hobbits. "There," he said pointing out over the plain before him. Frodo could see far in the distance the ragged profile of a mountain range. He turned to the Easterling.  
  
"Sam is there?" he asked anxiously. Pippin and Merry turned to look at Radak. The man nodded slowly.  
  
"Yes," he replied. "Our village is in the southern part of those mountains. The Black Wizard dwells not far from there. Your friend is his captive."  
  
Frodo pressed his lips together as he felt the pain of Sam's predicament anew. He looked again at the Easterlings before him. "Will you be able to help us rescue Sam?" he asked. "We are strangers in your land and will need guides. We would be much indebted to you, if you could help."  
  
Radak stared at Frodo through narrowed eyes, his face inscrutable as if he were seriously considering the wisdom in helping rescue the captive Hobbit. In reality, he was envisioning the enjoyment he would experience when he turned these little rats over to the Mouth of Sauron. Finally, he gave a curt nod. "Yes, I will help you find your friend."  
  
**************************************************************************** *************  
  
Gandalf and Aragorn had been gone longer than they had intended on their mysterious quest. Upon their return, they brought with them a young sapling to replace the skeletal remains of the White Tree, a new symbol of life representing the Return of the King. Aragorn had enjoyed the days he and Gandalf had spent in solitude in the mountains. He didn't realize how exhausted he was and felt rejuvenated upon his return.  
  
He and Gandalf strolled down the hallway towards the Hobbits' apartments. They had just met with Gimli and Legolas who had been abroad exploring Ithilien. Now, they were going to find their Hobbit friends. Gandalf had worried some about leaving them so suddenly, but it was necessary. However, he was secure in the knowledge that no harm could come to the halflings while in the White City.  
  
They soon approached the apartment where the Hobbits had been staying. Gandalf rapped on the door with his staff calling, "Frodo! Merry! Pippin! Are you there?" They waited a moment, but there was no answer. Gandalf glanced at Aragorn, shrugged, then pushed open the door. The two men stepped in and looked around. Aragorn frowned and hurried into the apartment and calling through the chambers. The apartment was empty and it was apparent that most of the Hobbits' belongings were gone.  
  
"Where are they?" cried Aragorn in alarm, turning about, continuing to survey the room, hoping to find a clue as to their whereabouts. He turned to Gandalf who stood frozen behind him, a small piece of parchment clutched in his hands.  
  
Gandalf's eyes were full of worry as he held the parchment to Aragorn. "They've left to rescue Sam." was all he said. Aragorn stared at him in confusion as he took the note to read for himself.  
  
"How can this be!?" he exclaimed in disbelief. "Why would they go off by themselves with an Easterling soldier no less!?" He slowly lowered himself onto a stool, continuing to stare at the mysterious message. He looked up at the wizard. "Do you honestly believe Sam might still be alive?" he asked quietly. "The note says this boy had Galadriel's gift to Frodo, the light of Earendil. Frodo believed it to be in Sam's possession."  
  
Gandalf began to pace the room, deep in thought. He knew they must act quickly, but where had the Hobbits gone? All the note said was "Rhun" and Rhun was a vast land. They already had a week's head start and without exact knowledge of their destination, it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. Although he did not know who was behind this, he had no doubt this was a trap and cursed himself for not returning sooner. He halted. As to Sam, that was another mystery. Could the final Ringbearer still be alive? If so, how was he captured and who was this "Black Wizard" Frodo mentioned? He turned again to Aragorn. "I do not know if Sam is still lives," he replied, his voice tense, "The important thing is that Frodo, Merry, and Pippin believe it to be true, otherwise they would not have left like this. I believe this is a trap of some sort and unless we can find them soon, we doubt we will ever see our friends alive again." 


	10. The Lair of the Black Wizard

Chapter 10 The Lair of the Black Wizard  
  
The Easterlings and the three Hobbits had finally reached the foothills of the mountains just east of the Sea of Rhun. Radak seemed more tense now that they were near their destination. He constantly scanned the mountain slopes and ridges around them. Frodo and his cousins could feel their own apprehension growing. Now that they were nearing their goal, they were beginning to sincerely doubt the wisdom of their hurried departure. But, there was nothing for it. If there was any hope of saving Sam, it would be up to them, and them alone. Frodo had hoped that Gandalf would find the message he'd left and follow them, but so far there had been no sign of the wizard. Of course, Frodo had been unable to provide any details of their route, but still he hoped Gandalf would catch up with them before they reached Jalan's village.  
  
Radak led the little party up a long, narrow pathway that wound its way along the rugged side of one of the mountains. He seemed to have little doubt as to where he was going. As the darkness fell, Radak halted in small open area surrounded by rock. "We will make camp here tonight," he announced, "And make our plans." The Hobbits were relieved to hear this. They were desperate to get off the horses and even more eager to begin planning Sam's rescue.  
  
After a meager evening meal of bread and cheese, Radak looked across the small fire at the halflings. "It will not be easy to free your friend," he said grimly, "Assuming, of course, that he is still alive. Jalan knows much of the Black Wizard's refuge in the mountains having acted as his servant." He turned to his son. "Where is this Samwise?" he asked.  
  
Jalan bit his lip. "The Black Wizard will have him in his chamber of torture. It is deep in the labyrinth of caves. There, no one can hear his victims' screams. It will difficult to enter his cave as there is a heavy gate barring the main entrance." He stopped for a moment and looked at each of the Hobbits carefully. "However, I once discovered a small passageway leading from one of the unused caves to the outside. It is very small and narrow and only a child or perhaps a halfling could fit through. I have never spoken of this secret exit in case I should ever need it in an emergency. No one is safe from the Black Wizard."  
  
Frodo leaned forward, "Can you show us this entrance?" he asked, "And guide us through the caves?"  
  
Jalan glanced at his father, then back to Frodo. He nodded reluctantly. "Tomorrow night, we should reach the location of the opening. If all goes well, we will go then." He then stood and walked out of the circle of firelight to tend to his horse. The Hobbits retreated a little ways from the fire to talk among themselves.  
  
Radak appeared to be staring into the fire, but in reality, he was closely watching the halflings. If it had been left up to him, he would have simply trussed them up, flung them onto the backs of the horses and delivered them directly to the Mouth of Sauron. He didn't hold with all this pretense, but he knew it gave his master pleasure to keep the Hobbits thinking they had a chance of success. Then, when he sprang his trap, the shock would be that much greater when they failed so miserably. Not only would they fail in rescuing their comrade, but they would find themselves in the same predicament. They would be completely demoralized. Perhaps, thought Radak dispassionately, with the halflings to keep him occupied, the Black Wizard would leave the villagers alone. At least for awhile.  
  
The small band traveled all the next day, continuing their climb into the forbidding mountains. The air was getting colder the higher they climbed forcing the Hobbits to put on their cloaks. They had also strapped on their small swords. Radak and Jalan frowned at this, but said nothing. As evening approached, they spotted the smoke coming from the Easterling's village. They had agreed that it would be best if they did not approach the village until the Hobbits were safely away. They wanted no tales to make their way to the Black Wizard.  
  
They waited until darkness was complete before they started the ascent to the secret opening. Radak, remaining behind with the horses, watched as his son and the halflings disappeared into the gloom. As soon as he felt they were well enough along, he himself would hike over to the main entrance and inform the Mouth of Sauron that the Hobbits were on their way. His job would then be complete.  
  
Jalan guided the Hobbits perhaps 50 feet up the side of the mountain, then stopped. He turned to Frodo and pointed. Frodo moved closer to the boy and could just make out a small cleft in the rock wall a few feet from where they stood. It was hidden from view by several large boulders and small, woody shrubs. Pippin and Merry crowded in around them. "We're going in there?" squeaked Pippin, trying to keep his voice low.  
  
Jalan simply glanced at him and nodded. "If you wish to rescue Samwise, this is the only way. The passage is very small and it will take some time to make our way through to the caves, so we had better get started." He then looked intently at each of the Hobbits. "We must not use any light," he said, "The Black Wizard does not use the cavern at the end very often, but he has been known to spend time there. We cannot chance him detecting us." The three Hobbits glanced at each other nervously. Although their homes were underground, this was entirely different.  
  
Jalan turned away and crawled over to the cleft, pushing aside the shrubs and wriggling his way into the small opening. A moment later, he had disappeared. Frodo took a deep breath, then followed. He crawled in through the opening and immediately had to lie flat and squirm forward. In moments he was immersed in total darkness. It was a disorienting experience and for a moment he felt as if he were floating. The passageway was just large enough for Frodo to move forward. He could feel the sheer weight of the mountain pressing down around him and he had to take several deep breaths to keep from panicking. Suddenly, he heard Jalan's voice somewhere ahead. "Hurry!" Swallowing his fear, Frodo inched forward, his elbows and knees already screaming in protest.  
  
Behind him, Merry and then Pippin started to crawl through the tunnel. Worried, Merry called back to his younger cousin, "Are you alright, Pip?"  
  
Like Frodo, Pippin was fighting the claustrophobia caused by the confining space. But, if Merry and Frodo could do it, he thought, then so would he. "I'm fine!" he whispered back through gritted teeth and slowly but surely, the small procession made its way through the tortuous subterranean passage.  
  
Frodo had lost all track of time. He had no idea how long they had been squirming along on their bellies. It felt like days and he was so tired and parched. It was so tight, he couldn't even reach the water pouch he carried. He was beginning to wonder if there really was an end to this tunnel or would they be trapped in here forever. He was running these gloomy thoughts through his mind when he suddenly collided with something solid. The quiet "oomph!" told him that he had run into Jalan. "We are there!" hissed the boy, "Be very quiet and still while I make sure it is safe." There was a quiet scrabbling sound and Jalan was gone.  
  
Frodo could hear Merry coming up behind him. Fortunately, Merry managed to stop before running into his cousin, as did Pippin. Frodo slowly inched up a little further, hoping to see into the cavern ahead. He held his breath anxiously as he awaited some sign from Jalan that it was safe to come out. The minutes ticked by. His clothes were damp with sweat and now in the chill of the tunnel, Frodo began to shiver. "Do you see anything?" Merry's whisper startled Frodo, causing him to jerk and smack his head painfully on the roof of the tunnel.  
  
Wincing, he whispered a negative reply. Frodo was about to take his chances when a small light flared a short ways ahead. In the absolute darkness of the tunnel, even such a small flame was blinding. Illuminated by the candle, Jalan's dirt smeared face peered back at them. "All is clear!" he quietly called and gestured for them to come out. It took a few moments, but soon all three of the Hobbits had squirmed out of the hole and stood shaking out their stiff and cramped limbs. They could see little of the cavern in which they now stood, but they had a feeling of vast space around them. Jalan had told them earlier that this cavern was deep within the labyrinth of caves and some distance from the Black Wizard's main domicile.  
  
"I ventured a short ways down the passage to the Black Wizard's chambers," whispered Jalan. "I heard no sounds, but we must be very cautious." Frodo and the others nodded nervously. Jalan turned and silently led the way out of the cavern into a narrow passageway. For a grown man, it would have been a tight squeeze, but for a slender boy and three halflings, it was an easy journey. As Jalan led them down one passageway after another, Frodo quickly realized they never would have found their way through this maze without a guide. They would have been irretrievably lost.  
  
Finally, the boy came to halt and turned back to Frodo. "Around this bend," he announced quietly, "We will come to the Black Wizard's territory. The chamber of tortures is just a little ways down the passage. Turn to the left and you will see the door. It is very large and bound with iron. It will not be locked." He stopped a moment and took a breath and looked away. "I will go no further. I will await your return, but if the Black Wizard comes, I will not stay." Frodo turned to Merry and Pippin, both were pale and drawn. The tension was taking its toll.  
  
"Thank you, Jalan," said Frodo gratefully. "We will take it from here." Again, he glanced at his cousins, and carefully pulled Sting from its scabbard. Merry and Pippin brought forth their own small blades and signaled their readiness. Frodo took a deep breath, and quietly crept down the passageway. The glow of the torches threw patches of light into the corridor before them. When they reached the main passageway, they halted and looked around.  
  
This was a wide, spacious passage with a ceiling well above their heads. Torches were mounted in wall sconces at regular intervals in both directions. Frodo cautiously moved into the passage and turned to the left, listening intently for any sounds. Slowly, the three moved stealthily forward, keeping close to the walls. Then, they saw the door. It was just as Jalan had described it. It was a massive looking door with an iron bar preventing anyone from escaping from the room. It didn't seem that there was a need to prevent anyone from entering. Merry and Pippin stepped forward and lifted the heavy bar, moving it out of the way. Very, very slowly, Frodo pushed open the door.  
  
The moment he looked into the chamber, Frodo felt himself go faint. Merry quickly grabbed his arm to steady him. Frodo smiled his thanks. This room looked all too much like the torture chambers of Barad-dur. Although Frodo had not been a prisoner long, he had been there long enough to have the horror of the place deeply etched into his memory and the thought that Sam was here now sickened him. Taking a deep breath and shaking his head to dispel any further dizziness, Frodo moved into the room.  
  
It was cold and damp and felt strangely oppressive. It took all the strength of will the Hobbits possessed not to turn and run. The memories of countless abominable acts seem to permeate the very atmosphere. Frodo stopped a few feet inside the door and listened intently. From somewhere within the room came an odd rasping sound. Merry stood by the door to keep watch while Pippin and Frodo moved towards the cells at the far end of the chamber. The noise seemed to be coming from there.  
  
The cousins homed in on the sound and soon found themselves in front of one of the cells. The cell's interior was shrouded in deep shadow. Frodo hurried to the wall and using a stool was able to reach one of the torches. Carrying it carefully to the cell, he and Pippin peered in.  
  
Frodo froze at the sight within. His throat constricted with horror and dismay and it was several moments before he was able to choke out a single word: "Sam!" 


	11. Trapped

Author's Notes: Thanks again to all you faithful reviewers! You guys are great and the encouragement is greatly welcomed! In return, I do try and get updates out in a timely fashion! Thanks so much for your support!  
  
Chapter 11 Trapped!  
  
Frodo could barely believe his eyes. He felt queasy and faint for a moment, then white-hot rage took it's place. "Sam!" he cried again, furiously pulling on the door to the cell with his free hand. It wouldn't budge.  
  
"It's locked!" cried Pippin in dismay and began to look around for a key.  
  
"Here!" called Merry from near the door. He had found a large ring of keys hanging on a hook. Obviously, one of the keys must fit the cell doors. Pippin hurried over and took the ring. Returning to the cell, he began trying different keys. There must have been 20 of them.  
  
"Hurry!" urged Frodo impatiently. He was still staring into the cell. Even with the torch, it was hard to see Sam clearly, but it was clear he was in a bad way. Finally, with a satisfying clunk, the door swung open. Frodo and Pippin rushed into the cell. Frodo thrust the torch into Pippin's hands as he approached the back wall. There was a wooden ladder-like structure attached the rear wall of the dank, fetid cell and this is where Sam's friends finally found him. He was half-naked, wearing nothing but filthy, tattered trousers. His arms were stretched high above his head and securely bound to one of the rungs. He legs were just as securely bound to a lower one. His head rested on his chest and his normally kind face was so bruised and swollen, Frodo would never have recognized him. His emaciated body was covered with welts, gashes and burns and over all of this was a patina of blood, bruises and filth.  
  
Frodo felt hot tears of anger and grief trickling down his cheeks. He closed his eyes for just a moment to pull himself together, then taking Sting, he carefully sliced through the bonds holding Sam's feet. "Pippin!" he cried quietly as he started to climb up the rungs to where Sam's hands were tied, "Get ready to catch him!" Pippin looked around the cell and seeing another sconce in the wall, thrust the torch securely into place. He then positioned himself below Sam. He watched intently, a look of anguish on his face as he tried not to stare at Sam's tortured body. "Here he comes!" Frodo held onto Sam's wrists as Pippin moved forward to grab hold of his legs and together they gently lowered Sam to the ground.  
  
Frodo dropped to his knees and cradled Sam's battered face in his lap. One eye was completely swollen shut. His lips were also swollen and split. He was obviously seriously dehydrated. "Oh Sam!" cried Frodo, brushing Sam's matted hair from his eyes. "Sam! Can you hear me? Wake up, Sam! It's me, Frodo! We've come to rescue you!" There was no response. Frantically, Frodo placed his ear on Sam's chest and listened intently. He gave a small sigh of relief when he finally detected a faint, rapid heartbeat. He sat back up and looked at Pippin. "He needs water!"  
  
Pippin handed Frodo his water skin and watched anxiously as Frodo carefully poured a few drops into Sam's mouth. At first nothing happened.. The cousins glanced at one another. Frodo poured a little more and smiled as Sam finally produced a slight swallow. Frodo continued to pour small amounts of water into Sam's mouth. He then dampened the corner of his cloak and gently cleansed away some of the blood and filth. "Frodo!" called Merry nervously, "We must hurry! Remember, Jalan said that Black Wizard might show up at any time!" Frodo nodded, but looking at Sam, he felt a cold lump in the pit of his stomach. How could they ever get Sam back through the tunnel? "Sam!" he whispered again, his voice choking on the tears "Please, wake up! Please, Sam! You must help us!" He gently shook Sam's shoulder.  
  
Suddenly, Sam gave a slight shudder and his good eye fluttered. "Sam!" cried Frodo again, a little louder, "Come on, Sam! That's it! Wake up!"  
  
Slowly and painfully, the lid of Sam's good eye slid open and he looked around in confusion. When he caught sight of his dear master's face, his eye widened with disbelief followed by horror. "Noooooooooo!" he moaned, his rasping voice barely audible. "Noooo! Noooo!" He weakly tried to push Frodo away, still moaning.  
  
Frodo and Pippin looked at each other in dismay. Merry ventured away from his look-out post to see what was going on. He gasped in distress as he caught sight of Sam. "What did that monster do to him?"  
  
But Frodo was more concerned by Sam's odd response. Finally, Sam feebly grabbed Frodo's shirt pulled his master's ear near his mouth. "Go!' he wheezed, "Trap!" With harsh gasping breaths, his hand dropped and he lapsed again into blissful unconsciousness.  
  
Frodo stared at him in shock, then looked at his cousins. "He said it was a trap!" He thought for a moment. "Pippin, go find Jalan! I don't know if Sam is right, but we need to know if Jalan is still there." Pippin nodded, clutching his sword ever more tightly in his hand, he silently disappeared out through the door and into the corridor. "Merry," said Frodo wiping tears from his face. "We must carry Sam out of here."  
  
Merry nodded. "I can do it, Frodo," he replied grimly, "I'm stronger than you are." Frodo sadly smiled his thanks. He knew Merry was right. Next to Sam, Merry was the strongest of the four. Removing his cloak, Frodo tenderly wrapped his friend in its warm, comforting folds. Then, carefully he helped raise Sam and drape him over Merry's shoulder.  
  
They turned and began to make their way out of the cell, when with a feeling of dread, they noticed a long shadow falling across their path. Looking up, they saw a tall, menacing figure silhouetted in the doorway. "Going somewhere?" a harsh voice demanded with a sneer. Merry and Frodo stared at each other in shock. The Black Wizard had arrived.  
  
Pippin hurried back the way they come, turning down the narrow corridor where Jalan supposedly waited. It was empty. "Jalan!" he whispered as loudly as he dared, continuing to move further down the passageway. It was obvious, Jalan had deserted them. He started back towards the torture chamber when the sound of footsteps froze him to the spot. They were walking down the main corridor. Pippin waited until they had passed, then silently approached the juncture of the two passageways. He cautiously peered around the corner to the left but immediately pulled back. He had seen a tall man, dressed all in black entering the chamber. Frodo and Merry were trapped! 


	12. Chamber of Horror

Author's Note: Here it is, the next installment in the tortured lives of our favorite Hobbits! Thanks again to Gamgeefest, Bronwyn, Minty, Sam, Aemilia Rose, and Bookworm2000 for taking the time to review and encourage me! Thanks to everyone for reading!  
  
Chapter 12 In the Chamber of Horror  
  
Frodo and Merry began to slowly back away from the man in black. A cold sweat forming on their brows. Before they realized it, they had backed into Sam's cell as the man continued his unrelenting descent upon them. Soon, he stood blocking the cell door, studying them with cold, glittering eyes. Merry stumbled and it was all he could do to keep from crashing to the ground. Frodo quickly moved to steady him, but Sam's limp body slid from Merry's shoulders onto a heap of moldering straw. Merry straightened up, then turned to face the man alongside Frodo. Together they formed a protective wall in front of their friend.  
  
The Mouth of Sauron's hard face smiled faintly as he examined his new prisoners. "Well, well," he said, triumph in his voice, "I am so pleased to see that dear Samwise's stalwart companions have not abandoned him after all." Suddenly he frowned looking from Frodo to Merry. He quickly glanced over his shoulder. "Where is the other one?" he demanded abruptly, any trace of pleasantness gone from his voice.  
  
The two Hobbits glanced at one another but remained silent, their eyes glued to the Black Wizard's face. Frodo felt a fresh thrill of fear as he watched that face harden and the eyes narrow dangerously. Suddenly and without thought, Frodo yelled and with a startled Merry close behind, charged at the figure in the doorway, their swords thrust bravely out before them. With a chuckle of amusement, the Mouth of Sauron made a subtle movement with his hands and the Hobbits' swords went spinning across the room. He then deftly seized the collars of their cloaks and unceremoniously pitched them into the cell adjacent to Sam's. They went sprawling across the cold stone floor, turning in horror upon hearing the door clang firmly shut behind them.  
  
The Mouth of Sauron stood staring at them shaking his head as if disappointed in their behavior. "You cannot possibly withstand me," he said. "A couple of Shire rats like yourselves have no hope of escape." He moved closer, his merciless eyes glowering at them. "Now, I ask you again. Where is your companion? Radak assured me that he brought three Hobbits from Minas Tirith and I see but two."  
  
Frodo and Merry stood resolute in their determination to keep Pippin's whereabouts a secret. He was their only hope, slim as that might be. The Mouth of Sauron sighed and shook his head again and moved away out of their sight. The two Hobbits hurried to the bars of their cell, trying to see where he had gone, but the man had disappeared. Gradually, they became aware of a low chanting sound. They looked at each other in confusion, then Merry's eyes went wide. "It's coming from Sam's cell!" he whispered, the knuckles of his hands gripping the bars had gone white.  
  
A moment later they heard the Black Wizard's deep voice. "Well, Master Samwise," he said gently, speaking as if to a child. "I see you are awake! Do you know your friends have come to see you?" Frodo tensed as he made out Sam's frantic attempts to speak. "Now, now. Why on earth would I injure your dear friends, after they came all this way to see you? No, I need you to help me! I need you to help me convince them to tell me where their missing companion is. You can do that, can't you?" There was no reply at first, then they heard a terrified whimpering sound that suddenly blossomed into a full scale scream of agony.  
  
"Sam!" wailed Frodo, desperately pulling on the cell's bars. "Leave him alone! Haven't you hurt him enough?! Sam!" Merry's shouts joined his as they tried to open the unyielding door. The screams continued a few moments more before finally trailing off. Frodo and Merry could hear Sam's tortured sobs and gasps as he fought for breath. Feeling ill, Frodo closed his eyes and rested his head against the cold, rough bars. He felt tears burning in his eyes and throat, but he knew he must stay strong for Sam. He opened his eyes as he heard footsteps approach.  
  
The Mouth of Sauron again stood before them, eyeing the two Hobbits expectantly. "Do you wish your friend to suffer more?" he demanded harshly. "That was just a taste of what your dear friend has experienced at my hands." His feral grin confirmed the sadistic pleasure he obtained torturing defenseless Hobbits. "A small taste." Frodo and Merry stared at each other in fear and dismay. What could they do? If they revealed where Pippin went, then all hope was lost and each of them would suffer Sam's horrifying fate in turn. If they did not, then Sam's agony would go on endlessly.  
  
A scraping sound could be heard coming from Sam's cell. The Mouth of Sauron turned in surprise to see Sam painfully climbing to his feet, clinging determinedly to the bars of his cell. They were the only thing keeping him upright. He cradled one hand in the other. The swollen, misshapen fingers of the injured hand telling their tale more eloquently than any words. Sam stared at the Black Wizard with undisguised loathing. He then turned his bloodied face to his horror-struck friends. Continuing to gasp painfully, he spoke slowly, his eyes boring into theirs. "Tell...him..nothing!" he croaked firmly. "Nothing!" Then, having used what little resources he had left him, Sam's legs gave out and he collapsed. He lay unmoving in the cell's doorway.  
  
"You have your answer," declared Merry defiantly. Frodo, although unable to tear his eyes from Sam, nodded in agreement.  
  
The Mouth of Sauron's pale face hardened again. He grabbed Sam and roughly flung him back into his cell. "I shall go look for your friend," he said in a low, ominous tone, "And when I return, Samwise Gamgee will suffer as never before. Then, it will be your turn!" He whirled around, his long cloak flaring around him, and swiftly disappeared into the corridor. As the door crashed shut behind him, Frodo and Merry both sighed in relief. Frodo slowly sank to the ground and buried his face in his hands. Merry lay a comforting hand on his cousin's shoulder. The only sound was the pained, rasping breaths coming from the next cell. Although they were trapped, at least they were safe for the moment.  
  
*********************************************  
  
Pippin was at a total loss. He had seen the man go into the chamber and he knew his friends were trapped. He didn't know if he should wait and see if the man left and then try to free them or should he try to find his way out and look for help? But what help? He doubted any of the villagers would be willing to risk angering this Black Wizard. Obviously that torture chamber hadn't been built just for Sam. However, if Radak was in league with this devil, then the Black Wizard would know that one of the Hobbits was missing and would probably begin to search for him. As he was mulling over his choices, Pippin heard more footsteps coming down the passageway. Carefully, he again peered around the bend. The black man was there and with him, Radak. It was obvious that Radak was being posted as a guard at the chamber door. So much for getting back in.  
  
Pippin decided that the best course of action for the time being would be to move farther back into the caverns. He actually wasn't worried about finding the way back to the secret exit. He hadn't entirely trusted Jalan and as the boy led them through the series of the caves and passageways, Pippin had been marking their route. He made sure he was always the last in line and would stop periodically to make small marks on the wall, pointing the way back. It was something his old dad had taught him when he was just a boy. "Always mark your trail, my boy," Old Paladin Took had said, "You never know when you might want to find your way back!"  
  
Pippin continued to make his way further back into the passageway. There was still enough light coming from the main corridor for him to make out where he was going, but that would soon end. However, he had had the foresight to grab one of the unlit torches from the corridor. At the time, he hadn't been sure how far he might have to go to find Jalan and he didn't want to risk being marooned in the suffocating darkness. However, seeing Radak standing guard at the door Pippin was convinced that Jalan would be of no help.  
  
When he felt he was far enough from the main corridor that his light would not be visible, Pippin took a chance and lit his torch. He was still in a narrow passageway, but saw what looked like a cavern opening just ahead. He decided to hide in there until he could think of what to do. He entered a good size cave, perhaps 50 feet across. There were rocks strewn across the floor and stalactites reaching their piercing fingers towards him. The wavering torch light created deep shadows around the edges and in the far end of the cave. Tentatively, Pippin moved further in. He had the feeling he was being watched. He slowly turned, peering through the darkness, when he heard a low voice coming from somewhere beyond the shadows. "There you are." 


	13. Escape

Author's Note: I'm reposting this chapter as Gamgeefest made me aware of a place I had forgotten to change. It's not a big thing, but it bothered me enough to correct it (if you've already read this chapter, you may not even notice)! Anyway, I hope this chapter makes sense! Thanks again to all those who take the time to read my story and especially to those who review! I appreciate it! (Again, good to see you Irish Flying Fish)  
  
Chapter 13 Escape  
  
Pippin froze. "Who...who's there?" he called nervously, slowly backing away the way he had come. He heard a rustling from somewhere ahead and a small figure made its way into the torch's flickering light. It was Jalan.  
  
"Jalan?" said Pippin, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "What are you doing here?" Pippin could feel his anger rising now. He was usually a congenial sort of fellow, but he was feeling less than friendly towards this boy.  
  
Jalan moved a little closer, his eyes downcast. He stopped a few feet away, then raised his eyes to meet those of the suspicious Hobbit. "I am sorry, Pippin." he said softly. "When this all began, I believed as my father, that we should bring you and your companions here and into the Black Wizard's trap. After all, you and your friends were responsible for the Dark Lord's defeat." He stopped here for a moment, looking away into the darkness. "I wanted you all to suffer. To die horribly. But." now he looked at Pippin. "But this is not the way of the warrior!" he spat, "A warrior fights his battles bravely and with honor. This is the work of a sneak, a coward! You and your companions came willingly to rescue your friend, despite the risks, despite knowing it might result in all your deaths. You have behaved bravely. Torture and lies are the tools of spies and cowards, not honorable soldiers. I will no longer be part of this. If you are to die, it should be valiantly, in battle, not at the hands of someone as vile as the Black Wizard." He paused again, shifting his weight. "I will help you rescue the others and get you out of here."  
  
Pippin stood staring at him in befuddled disbelief. One moment, the boy was leading them into certain death and now he claimed he wanted to help them! Was he to be believed, much less trusted? Pippin desperately wished there was someone wiser than he to make these decisions. "Why should I believe you?" he asked angrily. "Do you know what that monster has done to Sam? Have you seen him?"  
  
Jalan shook his head. "No. In fact, I have never met Samwise Gamgee. My father instructed me on what I should say. But, I have seen victims of the Black Wizard's chamber. I can well imagine what has been done to your friend." He sighed. "I cannot make you trust me, Pippin. If my father or the Black Wizard knew I was here with you now, I would soon be joining the others in the chamber. All I know is that I cannot live with this dishonor."  
  
Pippin studied the boy's grim face. He had no choice, really. The Black Wizard was undoubtedly looking for him and Jalan certainly knew these caves better than hedid. Maybe it was his only hope. "What do you suggest we do?" he asked cautiously.  
  
Jalan moved a little closer. "I know my father guards the chamber door. He will not aid us. The Black Wizard has sent word to the village summoning more men to help search the caverns for you. They will be here any minute."  
  
Pippin felt the blood drain from his face. "What?" he cried, "Then where can I hide? How can we save Frodo, Merry and Sam?" He ran his hand through his hair trying to think.  
  
"There is a way," began Jalan slowly, "But it is very dangerous and it may very likely kill you, but it could work." Pippin looked at him eagerly, motioning him to go on. Jalan swallowed nervously and continued. "There is," he said, "An underground river that runs from these mountains to the Sea of Rhun in the east. There are several places where it may be accessed in these caverns, including the torture room. It is said that the Black Wizard uses the river to dispose of the bodies of his victims. I know there is a trap door there, so the tale makes sense. You and your friends could escape down the river."  
  
Pippin was aghast at this idea! Granted, water didn't bother him nearly as much as it did Sam, but the thought of traveling in an underground river was disturbing. Yet, he suddenly recalled Bilbo's tale of how the dwarves escaped from the elves by floating down a river. Maybe the plan wasn't as far-fetched as it seemed. He turned to Jalan, "Sam is badly hurt," he said, "How could we get him down the river? What is the river like? Is it deep?"  
  
Jalan shrugged. "I do not know." he replied apologetically. "I have seen it here in the caverns and where it exits the mountains, but I have not traveled on it nor followed its path. It will be very risky, but with men searching the caverns, I believe it may be your only hope." He frowned in thought, then his face brightened. "I have an idea! Wait here!" Jalan turned and swiftly disappeared into the darkness. He returned a short while later carrying four small casks.  
  
"These are too small for you to hide in," Jalan explained, "But you could use them to help keep you afloat. I know there is enough room just below the torture chamber for you to use these, but I cannot say that they would work the entire way." Pippin examined the casks. They were empty now, but appeared to have held salt. They would be easy to carry and as Jalan suggested, might help them navigate the river. It was worth a try.  
  
The boy turned and pointed to a passage behind Pippin. "There is an entryway to the river not far from here," he began. I will lead you there. There is room enough to walk beside the river to the trapdoor in the torture chamber. I do not know how far the ledge goes. I will help retrieve your friends, then it is up to you to make your way to safety. If you are captured, I will not help you further. Do you understand?" Pippin bit his lip anxiously and nodded. It was more than he could have hoped to expect. He turned and followed Jalan down the passage.  
  
"Here," announced Jalan after a short hike. He pointed towards a small rocky grotto. Using his torch, Pippin looked down into an irregular opening in the rock, the light glinted on the black water flowing below. The air was damp and cold, making Pippin shiver. Jalan set his casks down and slid into the hole. "Hand me the barrels!" he called quietly. One by one, the casks and then the torch disappeared into the darkness. Finally, it was Pippin's turn. Taking a deep breath, he swung his feet over the side and carefully lowered himself as far as he could before dropping a short distance to the ground.  
  
He was standing on a narrow ledge that skirted the edge of the rushing river. The opening was just a couple of feet above his head. He could see that Jalan had to stoop slightly so as not hit his head on the ceiling of the rocky waterway. "We will leave the casks here," Jalan called as loudly as he dared above the echoing roar of water. "It is not far to the trap door." So saying, he led the way down the slippery ledge. Pippin nearly fell several times, but was able to keep from tumbling into the river just a few feet below.  
  
The two traveled in silence for some minutes before Jalan finally came to a halt. He turned to look at Pippin, then pointed above his head. Pippin could just make out the glowing edges of a trapdoor, a rusted iron ring hung from the center. They had reached their destination. Jalan put his finger to his lips and handed the torch back to Pippin. Then, putting his hands above his head, he carefully began pushing on the trapdoor. It took a moment, but soon the crack of light became a wedge and then, a full square. Jalan held onto the ring allowing him to keep the door from slamming onto the floor of the chamber and undoubtedly alerting his father outside. Jalan carefully climbed out of the hatch and lay the door wide open on the floor. Pippin wedged the torch into a crack in the rock face then allowed Jalan to help him up.  
  
They were near one of the back corners of the chamber, out of view of the cells holding the other Hobbits. Pippin scurried over the cell doors calling "Frodo! Merry!" in a hushed voiced.  
  
Frodo's head snapped up at Pippin's voice. "Pippin!" he heard Merry cry eagerly. Frodo leaped to his feet just as Pippin reached their cell. "How did you get here?" Merry whispered in growing excitement. "Get us out!" Jalan suddenly appeared at Pippin's side, the ring of keys in his hand. Frodo and Merry froze, then turned in Pippin in surprise.  
  
"He's helping us," was all Pippin said as he and Jalan searched for the right key. As soon as that cell was open, they hurried to the next and opened Sam's. Jalan stopped and stared in shock at the injured Hobbit sprawled on the cold, stone floor, He could see places on the Hobbit's back where he had been flogged clear to the bone. As much as he hated all the people of the West, he hated the Black Wizard and his cruel, cowardly ways even more. He hadn't lied about his mother and brothers being killed by the wizard. One brother had been returned to them still alive, but in much the same condition as this halfling. Tular had died before the week was done. The sight of Sam just strengthened Jalan's resolve to see these Hobbits out of this place of death. He knelt down beside Sam and gently lifted the Hobbit's head. Taking a small flask from his tunic, he pulled out the stopper with his teeth and carefully poured some of the black liquid into Sam's slack mouth. Sam began to moan and cough.  
  
The other Hobbits were there now. "What are you doing?" cried Frodo in alarm, but Merry and Pippin watched carefully. The liquid reminded them of the nasty elixir the orcs had forced upon them when they had been captured so long ago. It was terrible stuff, but worked well. After a few moments, Sam slowly opened his eyes and looked around.  
  
"Sam!" cried Frodo in relief kneeling beside Jalan.  
  
"Mr. Frodo?" whispered Sam now trying to sit up. Jalan carefully helped him into a sitting position.  
  
"Yes, Sam!" smiled Frodo, tears in his eyes, "We need to get out of here quickly. Do you think you can stand?" Sam closed his eyes for a moment, then slowly nodded. He was in a lot of pain, but the orc elixer had given him new strength. Between them, Frodo and Jalan got Sam onto his feet.  
  
Pippin looked at Sam and his cousins. "We must leave immediately!" he warned anxiously, "We've found a way out! Come on!" With that, he led the others to the open trap door. The water could be heard below. Frodo and Merry stared at Pippin in disbelief.  
  
"What's this, then Pippin?" demanded Merry. "Are we supposed to swim all the way back to Gondor!?"  
  
"It's an underground river," explained Jalan impatiently. "It will take you out of the mountains!" Pippin proceeded to drop down into the hole, with Merry following a little more cautiously.  
  
Sam watched this as if in a dream. He was still having a hard time comprehending what was going on. "Come on, Sam!" he heard Frodo say in his ear and he allowed himself to be led to the hole. Jalan and Frodo then helped Merry lower him to the ledge. Soon all five were safely through the hatch and Jalan quietly closed it behind them.  
  
He led them to were the casks were waiting and turned to them. "I am sorry I tricked you and brought you to the Black Wizard," he said stiffly, "I have explained my actions to Pippin. Now, I must leave you. Maybe someday we will meet honorably - on the field of battle. Good luck to you." The boy bowed gracefully from the waist, turned and disappeared into the darkness. It was up to them now. 


	14. Over the River and Through the Woods

Author's Note: Thanks again to all who reviewed!  
  
Gamgeefest: I think the reason Jalan was willing to help the Hobbits and his father was not was that Jalan was still young and idealistic. He had firm beliefs on the matter of honor and bravery and as far as he was concerned, the Black Wizard did not embody these trains. His father was a seasoned warrior and stood firmly in Sauron's camp. He may have hated The Mouth of Sauron, but he was a realist and knew where his loyalties lay. I also suspect that Easterling soldiers didn't spend much time at home, so perhaps he didn't have a strong relationship with his family.  
  
Welcome to FrodoBaggins87, Iridia, and laurajslr. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Chapter 14 Over the River and Through the Woods  
  
The four hobbits were together again and for the first time since the very start of their journey from the Shire, they were on their own. They stared down at the rushing water. Frodo glanced worriedly at Sam leaning against the wall beside him, eyes closed. Merry bent down to look at the casks and cried out in surprise when he found a length of rope neatly coiled beside them. "We can use this to lash a couple of these casks together," he said with excitement. "That way, we're less likely to lose each other." He looked meaningfully at Sam. Unless someone could stay close to him, it was unlikely Sam would make it past the first few yards.  
  
Sam could hear the others begin to lash the casks together. He slowly sank down onto a boulder, still leaning against the damp cave wall. He opened his swollen eyes as well as he could and studied the river. He knew he hadn't the strength to travel far through that. He had no doubt he would not make it out of these caverns alive. Still, he would rather die in a river with friends, than at the hands of that villain in the cave. He just hoped the others would make it out alright. He still felt responsible for their being here. But, there was nothing to be done about it now. He gave a faint smile. At least he was able to see his beloved Master again, even if just for a short time.  
  
The other three Hobbits worked quickly, when Pippin suddenly froze. "Listen!" he hissed. They all stopped what they were doing, straining to hear. They could make out a harsh voice shouting from somewhere behind them. It sounded furious. The Hobbits stared at each other in panic. Had their escape been discovered?  
  
"Sam?" The injured Hobbit looked up blearily to see Frodo standing anxiously before him, his eyes clouded with concern. "Are you ready? We must hurry!" Sam nodded and with Frodo's help, struggled to his feet. Merry had two casks tied together, the rope providing a handhold for the Hobbits. Sam only had one good hand, so Merry and Frodo quickly helped him weave that arm through the rope around one cask. Frodo fastened himself to the other. Merry and Pippin hurriedly lifted the other two and soon they too were ready.  
  
Frodo and Sam looked grimly at one another, then, on the count of three, they jumped. The water was bitterly cold and Frodo felt his breath knocked from him. Looking over, he saw Sam's eyes wide with fear and shock, but the valiant Hobbit was holding fast. Frodo struggled to move closer to Sam, holding onto him with one hand, while the other maintained a firm grip on the rope. The small barrels did at least help to keep their heads above the water. A splash behind told Frodo that Pippin and Merry had joined them.  
  
No sooner had the current seized them and began moving the casks along, than the Hobbits spied a light bobbing along the ledge behind them. Loud shouts and the sound of pounding feet followed them down the river. Now there was no doubt they had been discovered! Further ahead, Frodo saw the ledge ended and the swirling river disappeared into a dark hole. If they could reach that, they would be safe from their pursuers. A hiss sounded near his ear and with alarm, he saw the shaft of an arrow quivering in the side of his cask. They were under attack!  
  
"Merry! Pippin!" he cried, frantically trying to see his cousins in the darkness, "They're shooting at us!" More arrows hissed by, disappearing into the churning waters around them. Sam was silent, but still grimly hanging on. Frodo saw with relief that they had almost reached the break in the wall when he heard a sharp cry of pain from somewhere behind him. "Merry!" he cried again and then he and Sam were abruptly sucked into the black void.  
  
The trip down the underground river was a nightmare none of them would soon forget. They traveled in total darkness and the frigid water sapped at their strength. They had no way of knowing what was ahead and they were often battered by rocks and boulders they could not see. Sometimes the ceiling of the river's channel was so low, the Hobbits's heads would smash painfully against it. In such places, it was difficult to breathe. Fortunately, the casks helped provide some protection, but none escaped unscathed. Sam suffered most of all. In general, Hobbits do not care for water, and Sam feared it more than most.. Fighting both panic and pain, it was all he could do to remain conscious. Frodo constantly called encouragement to him and Sam held onto those words like a lifeline. He was shivering violently, but the freezing water did have the benefit of gradually numbing his pain. In fact, he could hardly feel his limbs at all.  
  
Frodo worried about his cousins somewhere behind them. Had one of them been hit? The roar of the swiftly moving river masked all other sound and Frodo had no idea where Merry and Pippin were. Most of his attention was focused on keeping himself and Sam alive. Several times Sam had slipped beneath the surface of the water and it was all Frodo could do to haul him back up. The casks had a tendency to roll, so it was a constant battle to keep from being pulled under. Like Sam, the freezing water was numbing his limbs and it was becoming harder and harder to maintain his hold on his friend, but he would not give up! He just prayed the river would come to an end before his strength did.  
  
How long they traveled like this, Frodo could not tell. But after what seemed like an eternity, he began to detect a slight change in the darkness. He was so exhausted and cold, at first he thought he must be hallucinating, but he gradually realized he was able to make out Sam's figure floating beside him. Frodo lifted his head and peered ahead. He felt his heart leap as he realized the river appeared to be coming to an exit. A grayish light illuminated the river ahead. "Hold on, Sam," he murmured yet again. Sam had made no sound for some time and Frodo feared for him. If only they could get out of this freezing water.  
  
Finally, they were carried out of the tunnel and with a cry of joy, Frodo stared at the early morning sky above. Had it only been one night since they entered the mountain? It seemed more like a week! He began looking for a possible landing place. Once out of the mountain, the river spread out on the flat plain and became shallower and slower. Using his remaining strength, Frodo kicked out and slowly propelled the casks toward the shore. He felt his feet touch ground and he desperately pulled Sam through the reeds towards dry land. As soon as he was sure they were safely ashore, he untied them from the casks. Panting from the exertion, he turned to Sam, dismayed at his friend's gray, haggard face and labored breathing. He was so cold and the air barely felt warmer than the water. Sam needed warmth and soon.  
  
Frodo then looked back at the river. Where were Pippin and Merry? He stood for some minutes intently watching the flowing river searching for his cousins. There! He saw a form emerge from the yawning mouth of the river's exit and as it neared, he could see it was the casks with two Hobbits still attached. Frodo eagerly waded into the river, splashing towards them. "Merry! Pippin!" he cried excitedly. He saw one of the Hobbits wave weakly and slowly the casks began moving towards him. He flung himself forward into the river and reached the casks within moments. He then helped pull it towards shore.  
  
Merry and Pippin lay heaving on the sandy shore, trying to get their breaths. As Frodo began untangling them from the ropes, he froze is dismay. A black fletched arrow stood deeply embedded in the back of Merry's shoulder, his cloak dark with blood. "Merry!" gasped Frodo, gently laying his cousin on the wet sand.  
  
Pippin stirred beside him, slowly sitting up. He had blood on his face from a gash on his brow. There were tears in his eyes. "Is he alive?" he quavered, reaching a cold, wet hand to his cousin.  
  
Frodo felt for Merry's pulse. Yes, there it was, weak, but steady. Frodo turned to Pippin. "We must get a fire going," he said urgently helping an unsteady Pippin to his feet. "Sam is in a bad way as well and if we don't get them warm, I'm not sure either one will make it!"  
  
Pippin nodded and began to survey their surroundings. A small copse of trees stood about a hundred yards further along the river bank. "There!" he said pointing. "We should find some wood and shelter."  
  
Frodo agreed and turned back to look at Sam and Merry. "We'll have to take them one at a time," he said worriedly. "I don't like leaving either one alone, but I don't think I have the strength to carry Sam or Merry by myself." So saying, he knelt and gently lifted Merry's left arm and placed it over his shoulder. Pippin quickly took the other. With one last uncertain look at Sam, the two lugged Merry off to the safety of the trees.  
  
The copse was bigger than it first appeared and they were able to find a well protected place in amongst the roots of a large tree. After gently settling Merry as comfortably as they could, Pippin took off his cloak and carefully laid it over his cousin, figuring even wet, it would help provide some protection. They then hurried back to where they had left Sam and a short time later had him safely beside Merry.  
  
Pippin began to gather wood for a fire while Frodo took a closer look at Merry. With a queasy feeling, he realized that as deeply as the arrow was imbedded in Merry's shoulder, the only way for him to remove it was to push it through to the other side. "I'm sorry, Merry," he whispered apprehensively taking hold of the arrow's shaft. "I hope this won't hurt you too much!" In a moment, the deed was done. Using his knife, Frodo was able to saw through the arrow's thin shaft and remove the pieces. Merry's wound bled freely now. Frodo ripped off a portion of his shirt and bound the wound as best he could. He turned and saw Pippin white-faced behind him, his arms full of wood.  
  
"Will he be all right?" Pippin asked hesitantly laying the wood down beside them.  
  
Frodo sighed, looking down at Merry's pale face. "I don't know, Pippin," he replied. "If he doesn't lose too much blood or develop an infection, I think he has a good chance." He glanced at Sam's motionless form. "Sam is better at this sort of thing than I am."  
  
They soon had a fire going and both sighed in relief as the warmth of the flames chased away the deep chill of the water. They moved the two invalids as close as they dared, hoping the heat would help revive them.  
  
Pippin stared morosely into the crackling fire. "What are we going to do, Frodo?" he finally asked quietly. "Do you even have idea of where we are?"  
  
Frodo thought hard about this. He had a vague idea of where the Sea of Rhun was located. North of Mordor was about all he could remember. If they could head southwest, that would at least take them in the direction of Minas Tirith. He was about to reply to Pippin's question when he was startled by a loud, piercing scream.  
  
Leaping to his feet, he ran to edge of the woods and peered upwards into the sky. It was an eagle! He almost ran out to signal it, when Pippin grabbed his arm. "Look!" he cried. It was then that Frodo noticed this eagle looked different from the ones that had come to the army's aid at the Black Gate. This one was bigger and solid black as was his rider. The two Hobbits looked at each other, then wordlessly shrank back into the cover of the trees. They ran to the fire and quickly smothered it with dirt. However, they suspected they were too late. It would appear that the Black Wizard had found them already. 


	15. Hobbits' Revenge

Author's Note: Well guys, this is the last chapter. I really needed to finish this story as school work is piling up! I hope it doesn't seem like it's ending too abruptly. Anyway, I again wish to thank all of you who have read and reviewed my story. Even if you haven't reviewed, I thank you for reading and sincerely hope you enjoyed it!  
  
Danny Barefoot: Thanks again for your insightful remarks. I look forward to reading more of your Sam story! Good luck!  
  
Gamgeefest: I have been thinking more on our Radak question. I went back and looked at Ch 10 and something I had written there may explain his behavior. I think he was like the people that went along with the Nazis. He did it in the hope it would protect his people. Radak figured if he delivered the Hobbits to the Mouth of Sauron, his village would be safe. He hated the Mouth of Sauron as much as anyone, but he feared what would happen if he defied him. It's a thought, anyway!  
  
Chapter 15 Hobbit's Revenge  
  
The Hobbits cowered beneath the heavy roots of the tree where Sam and Merry rested. They couldn't be certain the Black Wizard had found them, but they feared he had spotted the smoke from their fire. They at least had had the foresight to retrieve the barrels and hide them among the trees. If the Mouth of Sauron knew they had traveled down the river, then it was obviously only a matter of time before they appeared at this place. Frodo could still hear the eagle's cries above them. He couldn't help but remember similar experiences with the Nazgul. His fear now was no less.  
  
After what felt like an eternity, they realized the eagle's screams seemed more distant. Hesitantly, they crept to the edge of the trees and looked upward. Frodo almost cried with joy as he realized the eagle had flown off into the distance. Perhaps they were safe for a while longer. The two Hobbits glanced at each other in relief and turned to return to their friends.  
  
As the neared the tree, Frodo began to feel a sense of foreboding. Something felt very wrong. He slowed to a halt and looked around anxiously. "What's wrong?" whispered Pippin, also feeling apprehensive.  
  
"I don't know," replied Frodo tensely, "Something is wrong."  
  
"Could it be me?" A tall figure clothed in black stepped out from behind a massive oak, barring their way. The Mouth of Sauron stared down at the terrified Hobbits, his dark eyes glittering in triumph. "Did you stupid halflings honestly believe you could escape me?" He laughed harshly. "I do not know how you discovered the way to the river, although I do have my suspicions. However, you have proven more resourceful than I would have expected." He then glanced back at the still forms of Merry and Sam lying in their woody sanctuary on the hill above him. "And Master Samwise actually survived the journey, did he? You Hobbits are difficult to kill!" He then turned his attention back to Frodo and Pippin.  
  
The two Hobbits began to slowly back away from him, when the Black Wizard lunged forward, grabbing Frodo by the throat. The wizard's eyes were blazing furiously. "No one makes a fool of me!" he hissed shaking Frodo viciously. "No one!"  
  
Frodo fought to break the wizard's hold. It was getting more and more difficult to breathe as the wizard tightened his grip. Pippin moved to help his cousin, but the wizard slapped him away with little more thought than he would a mosquito. These Hobbits would learn a lesson if it killed them.  
  
Sam slowly became aware of shouting. Pippin? He thought groggily. Then, he heard a voice that turned his blood to ice: the Mouth of Sauron! His eyes flew open and with horror, he realized that Black Wizard had Frodo! It took him a moment to realize that not only did the wizard have his beloved master, he was choking him! Frantically, Sam looked around and spying Merry's knife, pulled it from its sheath and, and panting with the effort, struggled to his feet. With strength born of fury and desperation, he flung himself forward and plunged the knife deep into the wizard's exposed back.  
  
The Mouth of Sauron, unlike the Istari, was not immortal. He had lived an unnaturally long life through the use of black magic, but he was not invincible. He screamed in agony and rage. He tossed Frodo aside. Then rounding on Sam, sent him flying into the tree. He swiftly turned and advanced on the stunned Hobbit with every intention of killing him then and there.  
  
Pippin regaining his senses quickly took stock of the situation. He knew an opportunity when he saw it. He was the only one in the party still armed and in a moment, had his small sword firmly gripped in his trembling hand. With a cry of anger, the brave Hobbit flew forward and using all the strength he could muster, thrust his shining sword through the Black Wizard's body. Again, the wizard whirled around, but now his eyes were wide with shock. He stared at Pippin in utter disbelief and then glanced down at the blade protruding from his chest. With a loan moan, he fell heavily to his knees, then slowly slumped to the ground. Between the two of them, Pippin and Sam had managed to destroy the Lieutenant of Barad-dur.  
  
Frodo struggled to his feet, still gasping for breath, his throat burned terribly. He stumbled to his cousin and stared down at the wizard's bleeding body. Frodo closed his eyes for a moment, then turned to Pippin and embraced him. The younger Hobbit was trembling in shock. He then pulled away from Frodo and with his irrepressible grin, said, "Well, that will teach him not to mess with Hobbits in the future!" Frodo laughed shakily, then hurried over to where Sam lay in a heap at the base of the tree.  
  
"Sam?" he called anxiously, "Sam? Can your hear me?"  
  
There was blood on the back of Sam's head, but with a low moan, he opened his eyes and looked up at Frodo. "Did we get him?" he rasped.  
  
Frodo laughed again, "Yes, Sam! He's dead!" Sam smiled, gave a small sigh of relief and closed his eyes. The nightmare was over. Never again would he have to face that monster. He felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Maybe there was hope after all.  
  
Pippin and Frodo carried Sam back to where Merry lay and carefully wrapped him in Frodo's cloak. It was soaked with river water and Sam's blood, but it was all they had. They dragged the Black Wizard's body out of the trees and dumped him unceremoniously into the river. He could join his victims in their watery grave. Pippin rebuilt the fire and for the first time since this ordeal began, they relaxed.  
  
Frodo was worried though. Even if the Mouth of Sauron was gone, were his men still looking for them? Even if they weren't, how were they to get home? They had no provisions, no maps, and two gravely injured companions. Obviously, they couldn't start out immediately. He knew they would have to stay here at least a few days and hope Sam and Merry would recover enough so they could leave. Pippin agreed.  
  
So, Pippin and Frodo did what they could for their friends. They were able to catch small fish in the river and snare a few scrawny rabbits. Presumably they wouldn't starve. But Merry and Sam seemed to be getting worse. Both burned with dangerously high fevers. Sam was having trouble breathing and the rattling sounds in his chest did not bode well. Frodo and Pippin feared they would be burying their friends in the forsaken place.  
  
It was early one morning and the black curtain of night was beginning to lift revealing the brilliant pinks and yellows of the rising sun. Frodo was taking his turn sitting with the invalids, using damp rags torn from his and Pippin's shirts to try and relieve the fevers. He stood up to stretch and to walk down to the river for some fresh water. It was cold this morning, as it was every morning. He shivered as he hurried out of the relative protection of the trees. It was then he heard a strange noise coming from the east. He turned, but the rays of the early morning sun were blinding him.  
  
The noise was getting louder and with dismay, Frodo recognized the sound as the rumble of hoof beats. Riders were approaching! With a cry of panic, he started to scramble back towards the trees to warn Pippin. "Frodo!" He froze in shock. Did someone call his name? He turned again towards the approaching riders, still unable to clearly make them out. There appeared to be perhaps four of them and they were advancing quickly. He couldn't possibly outrun them. With a sense of defeat, Frodo waited for them to arrive, but as they came nearer, he slowly realized that he recognized them! These were no Easterling soldiers come to kill them, it was Aragorn and Gandalf and with them Gimli and Legolas! In the front, leading them, was Jalan. They had been found.  
  
With a shout of joy and relief, Frodo began to run towards them. "Here we are!" he cried waving to them, "Here!"  
  
The riders pulled to a halt and Aragorn leaped from his horse, grabbing Frodo in a huge bear hug. "You're alive!" he cried, "We thought we'd never find you!" The others were off their horses now, except for Jalan, all embracing and shouting with excitement.  
  
"What about the others, Frodo?" asked Gandalf after the greetings were done. "Is Sam truly alive?"  
  
Frodo's smile faded, tears in his eyes. "Yes, Sam is alive, but barely. That Black Wizard hurt him badly. Merry has also been wounded. They need help right away! Pippin is alright, as am I!" He then frowned, "However did you find us?"  
  
Aragorn turned to the boy on the horse. "Young Jalan here found us. He spotted us in the mountains and realized we must have been tracking you. He explained what had happened and led us to where the river leaves the mountains. We hoped we would either find you here or at least some sign of where you had gone."  
  
Frodo turned to the Easterling boy who had turned out to be their savior in the end. He looked up at Jalan, smiled and simply said, "Thank you." Jalan ducked his head in embarrassment and turned away for a moment. Then shyly, returned the smile. Perhaps there was hope that peace could be made between the Easterlings and the Men of the West.  
  
Frodo led the others to the trees. Pippin was already awake and joyfully threw himself into the arms their friends. Aragorn and Gandalf hurried over to Merry and Sam to assess their condition. Aragorn swiftly applied a poultice of athelas to Merry's shoulder, knowing the leaves would draw out the infection. Merry was strong and Aragorn believed he would recover quickly. He was often amazed at the recuperative powers of Hobbits. He then turned to Sam. Upon removing the cloak, the full truth of what Sam had been through came to light. Aragorn's jaw tightened in anger. He could hear Gimli cursing under his breath at the sight. Gandalf looked furious. But, there was work to be done if Sam was to be saved.  
  
Sam thought he must be dreaming. He could swear he heard Strider's voice speaking to him. Frowning, Sam slowly opened his eyes and found himself staring into to Aragorn's weary but smiling face. "Hello, Sam." he heard Aragorn say.  
  
"This can't be happening," thought Sam fuzzily. He blinked several times, but the face was still there, smiling even more broadly than before. "Strider?"  
  
Aragorn nodded, his grin never leaving. He had used his healing powers to push back the hand of death and although Sam would have a long, painful recovery, his chances of survival were now much better. "How do you feel, Sam?" He asked gently.  
  
Sam took stock of the situation. He felt considerably better than he had and although moving was painful, for the first time in weeks he began to think he might survive this. "I'm alright, " he smiled weakly, then frowned. "What about Master Frodo? And Pippin and Merry?" He started to try and sit up. Aragorn gently pushed him back.  
  
"They're fine!" he replied with a laugh. "Pippin has been telling us all about your adventures! It just proves that it is never safe to leave Hobbits alone for any length of time!" He laughed again, then looked fondly down at the pale, thin Hobbit. It was hard for him to believe that this was the same stout Samwise Gamgee who had threatened him back at the Prancing Pony so long ago. They had all been though so much since then. "You did it, Master Gamgee," he said quietly, pushing Sam's hair from his face. "You destroyed the Ring of Power. You saved us all."  
  
Sam blushed a deep crimson. "I only finished what Mr. Frodo started." he mumbled self-consciously. "No need to make a big to do about it!" Aragorn laughed again, shaking his head in amazement. Hobbits were indeed remarkable creatures.  
  
**************************************************************************** *******  
  
It took some weeks, but the remaining members of the Fellowship along with Jalan, finally returned to the city of Minas Tirith. Sam and Merry both regained much of their health on the journey, although Sam would carry the scars, both physical and mental for the rest of life. Aragorn declared Jalan would become a squire in the Citadel Guard. The people of Gondor and Rohan were ecstatic when they learned the final Ringbearer had not perished in the eruption of Orodruin and great celebrations were held in his honor, much to Sam's dismay. He was vastly relieved when things finally settled down and the city turned its attention towards preparing for the King's wedding.  
  
On evening of the King's wedding, Sam and Frodo took a break from the festivities and stood on the ramparts of the city looking out towards the glowing fires of Mt. Doom. "I used to come here all the time to talk to you," admitted Frodo with a small laugh, his arm around his friend's shoulders. "I couldn't believe you were really gone."  
  
Sam stared out across the Pellenor, his mind reliving those awful days on Mt Doom. "All I could think about was destroying that cursed ring so's I could get back to you." replied Sam, tears rolling down his face. He couldn't bring himself to meet Frodo's eyes. "I am so sorry I left you, Mr. Frodo! I thought you were dead!" Turning away,he suddenly broke down in sobs. Frodo stared at him aghast.  
  
He grabbed Sam's shoulders and turned to face him. "Sam," he said, own eyes glistening, "You could not have known I was still alive. Taking on the quest by yourself was the bravest thing I've ever heard of. In the end, it all worked out. I'm safe. You're safe and the Ring was destroyed. We have all suffered in this war, Samwise Gamgee, but the important thing is, we are still together! Sauron has been destroyed and things are being set to rights. Someday soon, we'll go back to the Shire, you, me, Merry, and Pippin, and our lives will get back to normal!"  
  
Sam brushed away the tears and smiled again at his dearest friend. He then got a faraway look in his eyes as he considered the future. With a wistful expression on his face he softly whispered, "Rosie Cotton!" Frodo laughed, then clapping Sam affectionately on the shoulder, the two Ringbearers turned to rejoin their friends and to celebrate the beginning of a new life for them all.  
  
The End 


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